GREEN  HILL 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022094564 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


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Miss  Minerva 

(gnct 

William  Green  Hill 


"  I  jest  wanted  to  ride  by  Sam  Lamb 


Miss  Minerva  (§H3 
William  Green  Hill 


BY 
FRANCES  BOYD  CALHOUN 


Illustrated  by 
ANGUS  MACDONALL 


CHICAGO 

The  Reilly  &  Britton  Co. 
19         10 


Copyright,  1909 

BY 

THE  REILLY  &  BRITTON  CO. 

All  Rights  Reserved. 


First  Edition  published  February  6,  1909. 
Second  Edition  published  February  16,  1909. 
Third  Edition  published  March  16,  1909. 
Fourth  Edition  published  July  15,  1909. 
Fifth  Edition  published  December  1, 1909. 
Sixth  Edition  published  February  5,  1910. 
Seventh  Edition  published  June  27  1910. 
Eighth  Edition  published  Sept.  1,  1910. 


fflTfje  Hakesttse  Ptrsss 

DONNELLEY  &  SONS  COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  A  Scandalized  Virgin 5 

II  The  Babbit's  Left  Hind  Foot 13 

m  The  Willing  Worker 21 

IV  Sweetheart  and  Partner 29 

V  Turning  on  the  Hose 36 

VI  Successful  Strategy 45 

VII  Rabbits'  and  Other  Eggs 53 

VIII  Tellers  of  Tales 62 

IX  Changing  the  Ethiopian 70 

X  Lo!  the  Poor  Indians 77 

XI  Now  Riddle  Me  This 89 

XII  In  the  House  of  the  Lord 96 

XIII  Job  and  Pollie  Bumpus 103 

XIV  Mr.  Algernon  Jones 109 

XV  Billy,  the  Credulous 125 

XVT  The  Humble  Petition 130 

XVII  A  Green-eyed  Billy 138 

XVIII  Closer  than  a  Brother 143 

XIX  Twins  and  a  Sissy 151 


853Sil 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XX  Rising  in  the  World 159 

XXI  Pretending  Reality 167 

XXII  A  Transaction  in  Mumps 173 

XXIII  The  Infant  Mind  Shoots 181 

XXIV  A  Flaw  in  the  Title 187 

XXV  Education  and  Its  Perils 195 

XXVI     Unconditional  Surrender 201 


MISS   MINERVA  <p3 
WILLIAM   GREEN   HILL 

CHAPTEE  I 

A  SCANDALIZED  VIRGIN 

HE  bus  drove  up  to  the  gate 
and  stopped  under  the  elec- 
tric street-light.  Perched  on 
the  box  by  the  big,  black 
negro  driver  sat  a  little  boy 
whose  slender  figure  was 
swathed  in  a  huge  rain  coat. 

Miss  Minerva  was  on  the  porch  waiting 
to  receive  him. 

"Mercy  on  me,  child,"  she  said,  "what  on 
earth  made  you  ride  up  there?  Why  did  n't 
you  get  inside?" 

"I  jest  wanted  to  ride  by  Sam  Lamb,"  re- 
plied the  child  as  he  was  lifted  down.    "An' 

I  see  a  nice  fat  little  man  name'  Major " 

"He  jes'  would  n'  ride  inside,  Miss  Mi- 
nerva,"  interrupted  the   driver,  quickly,  to 
pass  over  the  blush  that  rose  to  the  spin- 
ster's thin  cheek  at  mention  of  the  Major. 
5 


6]  Miss  cMinerva,  ana 

"T  wan't  no  use  fer  ter  try  ter  make  him  ride 
nowhars  but  jes'  up  by  me.  He  jes'  'fused 
an'  'fused  an'  'sputed  an'  'sputed;  he  jes' 
tuck  ter  me  f'om  de  minute  he  got  off  'm  de 
train  an'  sot  eyes  on  me ;  he  am  one  easy  chile 
ter  git  'quainted  wid;  so,  I  jes'  h'isted  him 
up  by  me.    Here  am  his  verlise,  ma'am." 

"Good-bye,  Sam  Lamb,"  said  the  child  as 
the  negro  got  back  on  the  box  and  gathered 
up  the  reins.     "I  '11  see  you  to-morrer." 

Miss  Minerva  imprinted  a  thin,  old-maid 
kiss  on  the  sweet,  childish  mouth.  "I  am 
your  Aunt  Minerva,"  she  said,  as  she  picked 
up  his  satchel. 

The  little  boy  carelessly  drew  the  back  of 
his  hand  across  his  mouth. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  she  asked.  "Are 
you  wiping  my  kiss  off?" 

"Naw  'm,"  he  replied,  "I  's  jest  a  —  I  's 
a-rubbin'  it  in,  I  reckon." 

"Come  in,  William,"  and  his  aunt  led  the 
way  through  the  wide  hall  into  a  big  bed- 
room. 

"Billy,  ma'am,"  corrected  her  nephew. 

"William,"  firmly  repeated  Miss  Minerva. 
"You  may  have  been  called  Billy  on  that 
plantation  where  you  were  allowed  to  run 
wild  with  the  negroes,  but  your  name  is 


William  Green  Hill  [7 

William  Green  Hill  and  I  shall  insist  upon 
your  being  called  by  it." 

She  stooped  to  help  him  off  with  his  coat, 
remarking  as  she  did  so,  "What  a  big  over- 
coat; it  is  several  sizes  too  large  for  you." 

"Darned  if  't  ain't,"  agreed  the  child 
promptly. 

"Who  taught  you  such  a  naughty  word?" 
she  asked  in  a  horrified  voice.  "Don't  you 
know  it  is  wrong  to  curse?" 

"You  call  that  cussin'?"  came  in  scornful 
tones  from  the  little  boy.  "You  don't  know 
cussin'  when  you  see  it;  you  jest  oughter 
hear  ole  Uncle  Jimmy-Jawed  Jup'ter,  Aunt 
Cindy's  husban' ;  he  '11  show  you  somer  the 
pretties'  cussin'  you  ever  did  hear." 

"Who  is  Aunt  Cindy?" 

"She  's  the  colored  'oman  what  'tends  to 
me  ever  sence  me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln 
's  born,  an'  Uncle  Jup'ter  is  her  husban'  an' 
he  sho'  is  a  stingeree  on  cussin'.  Is  yo'  hus- 
ban' much  of  a  cusser?"  he  inquired. 

A  pale  pink  dyed  Miss  Minerva's  thin, 
sallow  face. 

"I  am  not  a  married  woman,"  she  replied, 
curtly,  "and  I  most  assuredly  would  not  per- 
mit any  oaths  to  be  used  on  my  premises." 

"Well,  Uncle  Jimmy- Jawed  Jup'ter  is  jest 


8]  Miss  Minerva  and 

nach'elly  boun'  to  cuss, —  he  's  got  a  reperta- 
tion  to  keep  up,"  said  Billy. 

He  sat  down  in  a  chair  in  front  of  his 
aunt,  crossed  his  legs  and  smiled  confiden- 
tially up  into  her  face. 

"Hell  an'  damn  is  jest  easy  ev'y  day  words 
to  that  nigger.  I  wish  you  could  hear  him 
cuss  on  a  Sunday  jest  one  time,  Aunt  Mi- 
nerva ;  he'd  sho'  make  you  open  yo'  eyes  an' 
take  in  yo'  sign.  But  Aunt  Cindy  don't  'low 
me  an*  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  to  say  nothin' 
't  all  only  jest  'darn'  tell  we  gits  grown 
mens,  an'  puts  on  long  pants." 

"Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln?"  questioned  his 
aunt. 

"Ain't  you  never  hear  teller  him?"  asked 
the  child.  "He  's  ole  Aunt  Blue-Gum 
Tempy's  Peruny  Pearline's  boy;  an'  Peruny 
Pearline,"  he  continued  enthusiastically, 
"she  ain't  no  ord'nary  nigger,  her  hair  ain't 
got  nare  kink  an'  she 's  got  the  grandes' 
clo'es.  They  ain't  nothin'  snide  'bout  her. 
She  got  ten  chillens  an'  ev'y  single  one  of 
'em  's  got  a  diff'unt  pappy,  she  been  married 
so  much.  They  do  say  she  got  Injun  blood 
in  her,  too." 

Miss  Minerva,  who  had  been  standing 
prim,  erect,  and  stiff,  fell  limply  into  a  con- 


William  Green  Hill 


[9 


venient  rocking  chair,  and  looked  closely  at 
this  orphaned  nephew  who  had  come  to  live 
with  her. 

She  saw  a  beautiful,  bright,  attractive,  lit- 
tle face  out  of  which  big,  saucy,  grey  eyes 
shaded  by  long  curling  black  lashes  looked 


*» 


,fA*UO 


winningly  at  her ;  she  saw  a  sweet,  childish, 
red  mouth,  a  mass  of  short,  yellow  curls,  and 
a  thin  but  graceful  little  figure. 

"I  knows  the  names  of  aller  ole  Aunt 
Blue-Gum  Tempy's  Peruny  Pearline's  chil- 
lens,"  he  was  saying  proudly:  "Admiral 
Farragut  Moses  the  Prophet  Esquire,  he  's 
the  bigges' ;  an'  Alice  Ann  Maria  Dan  Step- 


tO]  Miss  Minerba  ana 

an'-Go-Fetch-It,  she  had  to  nuss  all  the  res' ; 
she  say  fas'  as  she  git  th'oo  nussin'  one  an' 
'low  she  goin'  to  have  a  breathin'  spell  here 
come  another  one  an'  she  got  to  nuss  it. 
An'  the  nex'  is  Mount  Sinai  Tabernicle,  he 
name  fer  the  church  where  ol'  Aunt  Blue- 
Gum  Tempy's  Peruny  Pearline  takes  her 
sackerment;  an'  the  nex'  is  First  Thessa- 
lonians;  Second  Thessalonians,  he  's  dead 
an'  gone  to  the  Bad  Place  'cause  he  skunt  a 
cat, —  I  don't  mean  skin  the  cat  on  a  actin' 
pole  like  me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  does, 
—  he  skunt  a  sho'  'nough  cat  what  was  a 
black  cat,  what  was  a  ole  witch,  an'  she  come 
back  an'  ha'nt  him  an'  he  growed  thinner 
an'  thinner  an'  weasler  an'  weasler,  tell  finely 
he  wan't  nothin'  't  all  but  a  skel'ton,  an'  the 
Bad  Man  won't  'low  nobody  't  all  to  give 
his  parch'  tongue  no  water,  an'  he  got  to, 
ever  after  amen,  be  toast  on  a  pitchfork. 
An'  Oleander  Magnolia  Althea  is  the  nex'," 
he  continued,  enumerating  Peruny  Pear- 
line's  offspring  on  his  thin,  well  molded 
fingers,  "she  got  the  seven-year  itch;  an* 
Gettysburg,  an'  Biddle-&-Brothers-Mercan- 
tile-Co. ;  he  name  fer  the  sto'  where  ole  Aunt 
Blue-Gum  Tempy's  Peruny  Pearline  gits 
credit  so  she  can  pay  when  she  fetches  in 


WittUm  Green  Hill  ill 

her  cotton  in  the  fall ;  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lin- 
coln, him  an'  me  's  twins,  we  was  borned 
the  same  day  only  I  's  borned  to  my  mama 
an'  he's  borned  to  his  'n  an'  Doctor  Jen- 
kins fetched  me  an'  Doctor  Shacklefoot 
fetched  him.  An'  Decimus  Ultimus," — the 
little  boy  triumphantly  put  his  right  fore- 
finger on  his  left  little  one,  thus  making  the 
tenth,  "she  's  the  baby  an'  she  's  got  the 
colic  an'  cries  loud  'nough  to  wake  up  Israel ; 
Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  say  he  wish  the  little 
devil  would  die.  Peruny  Pearline  firs'  name 
her  'Doctor  Shacklefoot'  'cause  he  fetches 
all  her  chillens,  but  the  doctor  he  say  that 
ain't  no  name  fer  a  girl,  so  he  name  her 
Decimus  Ultimus." 

Miss  Minerva,  sober,  proper,  dignified,  re- 
ligious old  maid  unused  to  children,  listened 
in  frozen  amazement  and  paralyzed  silence. 
She  decided  to  put  the  child  to  bed  at  once 
that  she  might  collect  her  thoughts,  and  lay 
some  plans  for  the  rearing  of  this  sadly  neg- 
lected, little  orphaned  nephew. 

"William,"  she  said,  "it  is  bedtime,  and 
I  know  you  must  be  sleepy  after  your  long 
ride  on  the  cars.  Would  you  like  something 
to  eat  before  I  put  you  to  bed?  I  saved  you 
some  supper." 


12}  Miss  cMinerva.  and 

"Naw  'm,  I  ain't  hongry;  the  Major  man 
what  I  talk  to  on  the  train  tuck  me  in  the 
dinin'-room  an'  gimme  all  I  could  hoi';  I 
jest  eat  an'  eat  tell  they  wan't  a  wrinkle  in 
me,"  was  the  reply.  "He  axed  me  'bout  you, 
too.    Is  he  name'  Major  Minerva?" 

She  opened  a  door  in  considerable  con- 
fusion, and  they  entered  a  small,  neat  room 
adjoining. 

"This  is  your  own  little  room,  William," 
said  she,  "you  see  it  opens  into  mine.  Have 
you  a  night-shirt?" 

"Naw  *m,  I  don*  need  no  night-shirt.  I 
jest  sleeps  in  my  unions  and  sometimes  in 
my  overalls." 

"Well,  you  may  sleep  in  your  union  suit 
to-night,"  said  his  scandalized  relative,  "and 
I  '11  see  what  I  can  do  for  you  to-morrow. 
Can  you  undress  yourself?" 

Her  small  nephew  wrinkled  his  nose,  dis- 
dainfully. "Well,  I  reckon  so,"  he  scornfully 
made  answer.  "Me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lin- 
coln been  undressin'  usself  ever  sence  we  's 
born." 

"I  '11  come  in  here  after  a  while  and  turn 
off  the  light.    Good-night,  William." 

"Good-night,  Aunt  Minerva,"  responded 
the  little  boy. 


William  Green  Hill  [13 


CHAPTER  n 

THE  RABBIT'S  LEFT  HIND  FOOT 

FEW  minutes  later,  as  Miss 
Minerva  sat  rocking  and 
thinking,  the  door  opened 
and  a  lean,  graceful,  little 
figure,  clad  in  a  skinny,  grey 

_         union    suit,    came   into    the 

room. 

"Ain't  I  a-goin'  to  say  no  prayers?"  de- 
manded a  sweet,  childish  voice.  "Aunt 
Cindy  hear  me  an*  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln 
say  us  prayers  ev'y  night  sence  we  's  born." 
"Why,  of  course  you  must  say  your 
prayers,"  said  his  aunt,  blushing  at  having 
to  be  reminded  of  her  duty  by  this  young 
heathen ;  "kneel  down  here  by  me." 

Billy  looked  at  his  aunt's  bony  frame  and 
thought  of  Aunt  Cindy's  soft,  fat,  ample  lap. 
A  wistful  look  crossed  his  childish  face  as 
he  dropped  down  in  front  of  her  and  laid 
his  head  against  her  knee,  then  the  bright, 
beautiful  little  face  took  on  an  angelic  ex- 


m 


cNLiss  Minerva  and 


pression  as  he  closed  his  eyes  and  softly 

chanted : 

"  'Now  I  lays  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  prays  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep, 
If  I  should  die  befo'  I  wake, 
I  prays  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take. 


"  'Keep  way  f'om  me  hoodoo  an*  witch, 
Lead  my  paf  f'om  the  po'-house  gate, 
I  pines  fer  the  golden  harps  an'  sich, 
Oh,  Lord,  I  '11  set  an'  pray  an*  wait.' 
"Oh,  Lord,  bless  ev'ybody;  bless  me  an' 
Aunt  Cindy,  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln,  an' 


William  Green  Hill  [15 

Aunt  Blue-Gum  Tempy's  Peruny  Pearline, 
an*  Uncle  Jimmy-Jawed  Jup'ter,  an*  ev'y- 
body,  an*  Sam  Lamb,  an'  Aunt  Minerva,  an* 
aller  Aunt  Blue-Gum  Tempy's  Peruny  Pear- 
line's  chillens,  an'  give  Aunt  Minerva  a  billy 
goat  or  a  little  nanny  if  she  'd  ruther,  an' 
bless  Major  Minerva,  an'  make  me  a  good 
boy  like  Sanctified  Sophy,  fer  Jesus'  sake. 
Amen." 

"What  is  that  you  have  tied  around  your 
neck,  William?"  she  asked,  as  the  little  boy 
rose  to  his  feet. 

"That  's  my  rabbit  foot;  you  won't  never 
have  no  'sease  't  all  an'  nobody  can't  never 
conjure  you  if  you  wears  a  rabbit  foot.  This 
here  one  is  the  lef  hin'  foot;  it  was  ketched 
by  a  red-headed  nigger  with  cross-eyes  in  a 
graveyard  at  twelve  er'clock  on  a  Friday 
night,  when  they  's  a  full  moon.  He  give  it 
to  Aunt  Cindy  to  tie  'roun'  my  nake  when 
I  's  a  baby.  Ain't  you  got  no  rabbit  foot?" 
he  anxiously  inquired. 

"No,"  she  answered.  "I  have  never  had 
one  and  I  have  never  been  conjured  either. 
Give  it  to  me,  William ;  I  can  not  allow  you 
to  be  so  superstitious,"  and  she  held  out  her 
hand. 

"Please,  Aunt  Minerva,  jest  lemme  wear 


16}  Miss  Minerva  and 

it  to-night,"  he  pleaded.  "Me  an'  Wilkes 
Booth  Lincoln  's  been  wear-in*  us  rabbit  foots 
ever  sence  we  's  born." 

"No,"  she  said  firmly;  "I  '11  put  a  stop  to 
such  nonsense  at  once.  Give  it  to  me,  Wil- 
liam." 

Billy  looked  at  his  aunt's  austere  counte- 
nance and  lovingly  fingered  his  charm;  he 
opened  his  mouth  to  say  something,  but 
hesitated;  slowly  he  untied  the  string 
around  his  neck  and  laid  his  treasure  on  her 
lap;  then  without  looking  up,  he  ran  into 
his  own  little  room,  closing  the  door  behind 
him. 

Soon  afterward  Miss  Minerva,  hearing  a 
sound  like  a  stifled  sob  coming  from  the 
adjoining  room,  opened  the  door  softly  and 
looked  into  a  sad,  little  face  with  big,  wide, 
open  eyes  shining  with  tears. 

"What  is  the  matter,  William?"  she  cold- 
ly asked. 

"I  ain't  never  slep'  by  myself,"  he  sobbed. 
"Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  always  sleep  on  a 
pallet  by  my  bed  ever  sence  we  's  born  an' — 
an'  I  wants  Aunt  Cindy  to  tell  me  *bout 
Uncle  Piljerk  Peter." 

His  aunt  sat  down  on  the  bed  by  his  side. 
She  was  not  versed  in  the  ways  of  childhood 


William  Green  Hill  [17 

and  could  not  know  that  the  little  boy 
wanted  to  pillow  his  head  on  Aunt  Cindy's 
soft  and  ample  bosom,  that  he  was  home- 
sick for  his  black  friends,  the  only  compan- 
ions he  had  ever  known. 

"I  '11  tell  you  a  Bible  story,"  she  tempor- 
ized. "You  must  not  be  a  baby.  You  are 
not  afraid,  are  you,  William  ?  God  is  always 
with  you." 

"I  don'  want  no  God,"  he  sullenly  made 
reply,  "I  wants  somebody  with  sho'  'nough 
skin  an'  bones,  an' — an*  I  wants  to  hear 
'bout  Uncle  Piljerk  Peter." 

"I  will  tell  you  a  Bible  story,"  again  sug- 
gested his  aunt,  "I  will  tell  you  about " 

"I    don'    want   to    hear    no    Bible    story, 
neither,"  he  objected,  "I  wants  to  hear  Uncle 
Jimmy- Jawed  Jup'ter  play  his   'corjun  an' 
sing: 
"  'Rabbit  up  the  gum  tree,  Coon  is  in  the 

holler 
Wake,    snake;    Juney-Bug    stole    a   half* a 
dollar.' " 

"I  '11  sing  you  a  hymn,"  said  Miss  Minerva 
patiently. 

"I  don'  want  to  hear  you  sing  no  hymn," 
said  Billy  impolitely.  "I  wants  to  see  Sancti- 
fied Sophy  shout." 


18]  Miss  Minerva  and 

As  his  aunt  could  think  of  no  substitute 
with  which  to  tempt  him  in  lieu  of  Sanctified 
Sophy's  shouting,  she  remained  silent. 

"An*  I  wants  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  to 
dance  a  clog,"  persisted  her  nephew. 

Miss  Minerva  still  remained  silent.  She 
felt  unable  to  cope  with  the  situation  till  she 
had  adjusted  her  thoughts  and  made  her 
plans. 

Presently  Billy,  looking  at  her  shrewdly, 
said: 

"Gimme  my  rabbit  foot,  Aunt  Minerva, 
an*  I  '11  go  right  off  to  sleep." 

When  she  again  looked  in  on  him  he  was 
fast  asleep,  a  rosy  flush  on  his  babyish,  tear- 
stained  cheek,  his  red  lips  half  parted,  his 
curly  head  pillowed  on  his  arm,  and  close 
against  his  soft,  young  throat  there  nestled 
the  left  hind  foot  of  a  rabbit. 

Miss  Minerva's  bed  time  was  half  after 
nine  o'clock,  summer  or  winter.  She  had 
hardly  varied  a  second  in  the  years  that  had 
elapsed  since  the  runaway  marriage  of  her 
only  relative,  the  young  sister  whose  child 
had  now  come  to  live  with  her.  But  on  the 
night  of  Billy's  arrival  the  stern,  narrow 
woman  sat  for  hours  in  her  rocking  chair, 


William  Green  Hill  [19 

her  mind  busy  with  thoughts  of  that  pretty 
young  sister,  dead  since  the  boy's  birth. 

And  now  the  wild,  reckless,  dissipated 
brother-in-law  was  dead,  too,  and  the  child 
had  been  sent  to  her;  to  the  aunt  who  did 
not  want  him,  who  did  not  care  for  children, 
who  had  never  forgiven  her  sister  her  un- 
fortunate marriage.  "If  he  had  only  been  a 
girl,"  she  sighed.  What  she  believed  to  be 
a  happy  thought  entered  her  brain. 

"I  shall  rear  him,"  she  promised  herself, 
"just  as  if  he  were  a  little  girl ;  then  he  will 
be  both  a  pleasure  and  a  comfort  to  me,  and 
a  companion  for  my  loneliness." 

Miss  Minerva  was  strictly  methodical; 
she  worked  ever  by  the  clock,  so  many  hours 
for  this,  so  many  minutes  for  that.  William, 
she  now  resolved,  for  the  first  time  becom- 
ing really  interested  in  him,  should  grow 
up  to  be  a  model  young  man,  a  splendid  and 
wonderful  piece  of  mechanism,  a  fine,  prac- 
tical, machine-like  individual,  moral,  upright, 
religious.  She  was  glad  that  he  was  young ; 
she  would  begin  his  training  on  the  mor- 
row. She  would  teach  him  to  sew,  to  sweep, 
to  churn,  to  cook,  and  when  he  was  older 
he  should  be  educated  for  the  ministry. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Minerva ;  "I  shall  be  very 


20]  Miss  cMineSba  and 

strict  with  him  just  at  first,  and  punish  him 
for  the  slightest  disobedience  or  misde- 
meanor, and  he  will  soon  learn  that  my  au- 
thority is  not  to  be  questioned." 

And  the  little  boy  who  had  never  had  a 
restraining  hand  laid  upon  him  in  his  short 
life?  He  slept  sweetly  and  innocently  in 
the  next  room  dreaming  of  the  care-free  ex- 
istence on  the  plantation  and  of  his  idle, 
happy,  negro  companions. 


William  Green  Ml  [2t 


CHAPTER  ni 

THE  WILLING  WORKER 

,ET  up,  William,"  said  Miss 
Minerva,  "and  come  with 
me  to  the  bath-room ;  I  have 
fixed  your  bath." 

The    child's    sleepy    eyes 
popped  wide  open  at  this  as- 
tounding command. 

"Ain't  this-here  Wednesday?"  he  asked 
sharply. 

"Yes ;  to-day  is  Wednesday.  Hurry  up  or 
your  water  will  get  cold." 

"Well,  me  an*  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  jest 
washed  las'  Sat'day.  We  ain't  got  to  wash 
no  mo'  till  nex'  Sat'day,"  he  argued. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  his  relative;  "you  must 
bathe  every  day." 

"Me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  ain't  never 
wash  on  a  Wednesday  sence  we  's  born,"  he 
protested  indignantly. 

Billy's  idea  of  a  bath  was  taken  from  the 
severe  weekly  scrubbing  which  Aunt  Cindy 


22]  Miss  Mmertra  and 

gave  him  with  a  hard  washrag,  and  he 
felt  that  he  'd  rather  die  at  once  than  have 
to  bathe  every  day. 

He  followed  his  aunt  dolefully  to  the 
bath-room  at  the  end  of  the  long  back-porch 
of  the  old-fashioned,  one-story  house;  but 
once  in  the  big  white  tub  he  was  delighted. 

In  fact  he  stayed  in  it  so  long  Miss  Mi- 
nerva had  to  knock  on  the  door  and  tell  him 
to  hurry  up  and  get  ready  for  breakfast.    >. 

"Say,"  he  yelled  out  to  her,  "I  likes  this- 
here ;  it 's  mos'  as  fine  as  Johnny's  Wash 
Hole  where  me  and*  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln 
goes  in  swimmin'  ever  sence  we  's  born." 

When  he  came  into  the  dining-room  he 
was  a  sight  to  gladden  even  a  prim  old 
maid's  heart.  The  water  had  curled  his  hair 
into  riotous  yellow  ringlets,  his  bright  eyes 
gleamed,  his  beautiful,  expressive  little  face 
shone  happily,  and  every  movement  of  his 
agile,  lithe  figure  was  grace  itself. 

"I  sho'  is  hongry,"  he  remarked,  as  he 
took  his  seat  at  the  breakfast  table. 

Miss  Minerva  realized  that  now  was  the 
time  to  begin  her  small  nephew's  training; 
if  she  was  ever  to  teach  him  to  speak  cor- 
rectly she  must  begin  at  once. 

"William,"   she  said  sternly,  "you  must 


William  Green  Hill  [23 

not  talk  so  much  like  a  negro.  Instead  of 
saying  'I  sho'  is  hongry,'  you  should  say,  'I 
am  very  hungry/  Listen  to  me  and  try  to 
speak  more  correctly." 

"Don't !  don't !"  she  screamed  as  he  helped 
himself  to  the  meat  and  gravy,  leaving  a 
little  brown  river  on  her  fresh  white  table- 
cloth. "Wait  until  I  ask  a  blessing;  then  I 
will  help  you  to  what  you  want." 

Billy  enjoyed  his  breakfast  very  much. 
"These  muffins  sho'  is — "  he  began;  catch- 
ing his  aunt's  eye  he  corrected  himself: 
"These  muffins  am  very  good." 

"These  muffins  are  very  good,"  said  Miss 
Minerva  oatiently. 

"Did  you  ever  eat  any  bobbycued  rabbit?" 
he  asked.  "Me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln 
been  eatin'  chit'lin's,  an'  sweet  'taters,  an' 
'possum,  an'  squirrel,  an'  hoe-cake,  an' 
Brunswick  stew  ever  sence  we  's  born,"  was 
his  proud  announcement. 

"Use  your  napkin,"  commanded  she,  "and 
don't  fill  your  mouth  so  full." 

The  little  boy  flooded  his  plate  with  syrup. 

"These-here  'lasses  sho'  is "  he  began, 

but  instantly  remembering  that  he  must  be 
more  particular  in  his  speech,  he  stammered 
out: 


24]  cMiss  cMinerva  and 

"These-here  sho'  is  —  am  —  are  a  nice 
messer  'lasses.  I  ain't  never  eat  sech  a  good 
bait.  They  sho'  is  —  I  aimed  to  say  —  these 
'lasses  sho'  are  a  bird;  they  's  'nother  sight 
tastier  'n  sorghum,  an'  Aunt  Cindy  'lows 
that  sorghum  is  the  very  penurity  of  a 
nigger." 

She  did  not  again  correct  him. 

"I  must  be  very  patient,"  she  thought, 
"and  go  very  slowly.  I  must  not  expect  too 
much  of  him  at  first." 

After  breakfast  Miss  Minerva,  who  would 
not  keep  a  servant,  preferring  to  do  her  own 
work,  tied  a  big  cook-apron  around  the  little 
boy's  neck,  and  told  him  to  churn  while  she 
washed  the  dishes.  This  arrangement  did 
not  suit  Billy. 

"Boys  don't  churn,"  he  said  sullenly,  "me 
an*  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  don'  never  have  to 
churn  sence  we  's  born ;  'orhans  has  to  churn 
an'  I  ain't  a-going  to.  Major  Minerva  —  he 
ain't  never  churn,"  he  began  belligerently 
but  his  relative  turned  an  uncompromising 
and  rather  perturbed  back  upon  him.  Real- 
izing that  he  was  beaten,  he  submitted  to 
his  fate,  clutched  the  dasher  angrily,  and 
began  his  weary  work. 


William  Green  Hill  [25 

He  was  glad  his  little  black  friend  did  not 
witness  his  disgrace. 

As  he  thought  of  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln 
the  big  tears  came  into  his  eyes  and  rolled 
down  his  cheeks;  he  leaned  way  over  the 
churn  and  the  great  glistening  tears  splashed 
right  into  the  hole  made  for  the  dasher,  and 
rolled  into  the  milk. 

Billy  grew  interested  at  once  and  laughed 
aloud;  he  puckered  up  his  face  and  tried  to 
weep  again,  for  he  wanted  more  tears  to  fall 
into  the  churn;  but  the  tears  refused  to 
come  and  he  could  n't  squeeze  another  one 
out  of  his  eyes. 

"Aunt  Minerva,"  he  said  mischievously, 
"I  done  ruint  yo'  buttermilk." 

"What  have  you  done?"  she  inquired. 

"It  's  done  ruint,"  he  replied,  "y°u  '11 
haf ter  th'ow  it  away ;  't  ain't  fitten  f er  noth- 
ing   I  done  cried  'bout  a  bucketful  in  it." 

"Why  did  you  cry?"  asked  Miss  Minerva 
calmly.    "Don't  you  like  to  work?" 

"Yes  'm,  I  jes'  loves  to  work ;  I  wish  I 
had  time  to  work  all  the  time.  But  it  makes 
my  belly  ache  to  churn, —  I  got  a  awful  pain 
right  now." 

"Churn  on!"  she  commanded  unsympa- 
thetically. 


26]  Miss  Minerva  and 

He  grabbed  the  dasher  and  churned  vigor- 
ously for  one  minute. 

"I  reckon  the  butter  's  done  come,"  he 
announced,  resting  from  his  labors. 

"It  has  n't  begun  to  come  yet,"  replied  the 
exasperated  woman.  "Don't  waste  so  much 
time,  William." 

The  child  churned  in  silence  for  the  space 
of  two  minutes,  and  suggested :  "It 's  time  to 
put  hot  water  in  it ;  Aunt  Cindy  always  puts 
hot  water  in  it.    Lemme  git  some  fer  you." 

"I  never  put  hot  water  in  my  milk,"  said 
she,  "it  makes  the  butter  puffy.  Work  more 
and  talk  less,  William." 

Again  there  was  a  brief  silence,  broken 
only  by  the  sound  of  the  dasher  thumping 
against  the  bottom  of  the  churn,  and  the 
tattle  of  the  dishes. 

"I  sho'  is  tired,"  he  presently  remarked, 
heaving  a  deep  sigh.  "My  arms  is  'bout  give 
out,  Aunt  Minerva.  Ole  Aunt  Blue-Gum 
Tempy's  Peruny  Pearline  see  a  man  churn 
with  his  toes;  lemme  git  a  chair  an'  see  if 
I  can't  churn  with  my  toes." 

"Indeed  you  shall  not,"  responded  his  an- 
noyed relative  positively. 

"Sanctified  Sophy  knowed  a  colored  'oman 
what  had  a  little  dog  went  roun'  an'  roun' 


William  Green  Hill 


[27 


an*  churn  fer  her,"  remarked  Billy  after  a 
short  pause.    "If  you  had  a  billy  goat  or  a 
little  nanny  I  could  hitch  him  to  the  churn 
fer  you  ev'ry  day." 
"William,"  commanded  his  aunt,  "don't 


\wt**  otv' 


say  another  word  until  you  have  finished 
your  work." 

"Can't  I  sing?"  he  asked. 

She  nodded  permission  as  she  went 
through  the  open  door  into  the  dining-room. 

Returning  a  few  minutes  later  she  found 


28]  Miss  Minerva  and 

him  sitting  astride  the  churn,  using  the 
dasher  so  vigorously  that  buttermilk  was 
splashing  in  every  direction,  and  singing  in 
a  clear,  sweet  voice : 

"He  '11  feed  you  when  you 's  naked, 
The  orphan  stear  he  '11  dry, 
He  '11  clothe  you  when  you  's  hongry 
An'  take  you  when  you  die." 

Miss  Minerva  jerked  him  off  with  no  gen- 
tle hand. 

"What  I  done  now?"  asked  the  boy  inno- 
cently. "  'T  ain't  no  harm  as  I  can  see  jes'  to 
straddle  a  churn." 

"Go  out  in  the  front  yard,"  commanded 
his  aunt,  "and  sit  in  the  swing  till  I  call 
you.  I  '11  finish  the  work  without  your  as- 
sistance. And,  William,"  she  called  after 
him,  "there  is  a  very  bad  little  boy  who  lives 
next  door;  I  want  you  to  have  as  little  to  do 
with  him  as  possible." 


William  Green  Hill  [29 


CHAPTER  IV 

SWEETHEART  AND  PARTNER 

ILLY  was  sitting  quietly  in 
the  big  lawn-swing  when  his 
aunt,  dressed  for  the  street, 
finally  came  through  the 
front  door. 

"I  am  going  up-town,  Wil- 
liam," she  said,  "I  want  to  buy  you  some 
things  that  you  may  go  with  me  to  church 
Sunday.  Have  you  ever  been  to  Sunday- 
School  ?" 

"Naw  'm;  but  I  been  to  pertracted  meet- 
inV'  came  the  ready  response,  "I  see  Sancti- 
fied Sophy  shout  tell  she  tore  ev'y  rag  offer 
her  back  'ceptin'  a  shimmy.  She's  one  'oman 
what  sho'  is  got  'ligion ;  she  ain't  never  back- 
slid 't  all,  an'  she  ain't  never  fell  f'om  grace 

but  one  time -" 

"Stay  right  in  the  yard  till  I  come  back. 
Sit  in  the  swing  and  don't  go  outside  the 
front  yard.  I  shan't  be  gone  long,"  said 
Miss  Minerva. 


30]  Miss  Minerva  and 

His  aunt  had  hardly  left  the  gate  before 
Billy  caught  sight  of  a  round,  fat  little  face 
peering  at  him  through  the  palings  which 
separated  Miss  Minerva's  yard  from  that 
of  her  next-door  neighbor. 

"Hello!"  shouted  Billy.  "Is  you  the  bad 
little  boy  what  can't  play  with  me?" 

"What  you  doing  in  Miss  Minerva's 
yard?"  came  the  answering  interrogation 
across  the  fence. 

"I  's  come  to  live  with  her,"  replied  Billy. 
"My  mama  an'  papa  is  dead.  What  's  yo' 
name?" 

"I  'm  Jimmy  Garner.  How  old  are  you? 
I  'm  most  six,  I  am." 

"Shucks,  I 's  already  six,  a-going  on  seven. 
Come  on,  le's  swing." 

"Can't,"  said  the  new  acquaintance,  "I  've 
runned  off  once  to-day,  and  got  licked 
for  it." 

"I  ain't  never  got  no  whippin'  sence  me 
an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  's  born,"  boasted 
Billy. 

"Ain't  you?"  asked  Jimmy.  "I  'spec'  I 
been  whipped  more  'n  a  million  times,  my 
mama  is  so  pertic'lar  with  me.  She  's  'bout 
the  pertic'larest  woman  ever  was ;  she  don't 
'low  me  to  leave  the  yard  'thout  I  get  a 


William  Green  Hill  [31 

whipping.  I  believe  I  will  come  over  to  see 
you  'bout  half  a  minute." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word  Jimmy 
climbed  the  fence,  and  the  two  little  boys 
were  soon  comfortably  settled  facing  each 
other  in  the  big  lawn-swing. 

"Who  lives  over  there?"  asked  Billy, 
pointing  to  the  house  across  the  street. 

"That 's  Miss  Cecilia's  house.  That 's  her 
coming  out  of  the  front  gate  now." 

The  young  lady  smiled  and  waved  her 
hand  at  them. 

"Ain't  she  a  peach?"  asked  Jimmy.  "She  's 
my  sweetheart  and  she  is  'bout  the  swellest 
sweetheart  they  is." 

"She  's  mine,  too,"  promptly  replied  Billy, 
who  had  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight.  "I 's 
a-goin'  to  have  her  fer  my  sweetheart  too." 

"Naw,  she  ain't  yours,  neither;  she  's 
mine,"  angrily  declared  the  other  little  boy, 
kicking  his  rival's  legs.  "You  all  time  talk- 
ing 'bout  you  going  to  have  Miss  Cecilia  for 
your  sweetheart.  She  's  done  already  prom- 
ised me." 

"I  '11  tell  you  what,"  proposed  Billy, 
"lemme  have  her  an'  you  can  have  Aunt  Mi- 
nerva." 

"I  would  n't  have  Miss  Minerva  to  save 


32]  Miss  Minerva  and 

your  life,"  replied  Jimmy  disrespectfully, 
"her  nake  ain't  no  bigger  'n  that,"  making  a 
circle  of  his  thumb  and  forefinger.  "Miss 
Cecilia,  Miss  Cecilia,"  he  shrieked  tantaliz- 
ingly,  "is  my  sweetheart." 

"I  '11  betcher  I  have  her  fer  a  sweetheart 
soon  as  ever  I  see  her,"  said  Billy. 

"What  's  your  name?"  asked  Jimmy  pres- 
ently. 

"Aunt  Minerva  says  it  's  William  Green 
Hill,  but  't  ain't,  it  's  jest  plain  Billy,"  re- 
sponded the  little  boy. 

"Ain't  God  a  nice,  good  old  man,"  re- 
marked Billy,  after  they  had  swung  in 
silence  for  a  while,  with  an  evident  desire  to 
make  talk. 

"That  He  is,"  replied  Jimmy,  enthusiastic- 
ally. "He  's  'bout  the  forgivingest  person 
ever  was.  I  just  could  n't  get  'long  at  all 
'thout  Him.  It  don't  make  no  differ'nce 
what  you  do  or  how  many  times  you  run  off, 
all  you  got  to  do  is  just  ask  God  to  forgive 
you  and  tell  him  you  're  sorry  and  ain't 
going  to  do  so  no  more,  that  night  when  you 
say  your  prayers,  and  it 's  all  right  with  God. 
S'posing  He  was  one  of  these  wants-his- 
own-way  kind  o'  mans,  He  could  make 
Hi'self  the  troublesomest  person  ever  was, 


William  Green  Hill  [33 

and  little  boys  could  n't  do  nothing  a  tall.  I 
sure  think  a  heap  of  God.  He  ain't  never 
give  me  the  worst  of  it  yet." 

"I  wonder  what  He  looks  like,"  mused 
Billy. 

"I  s'pec'  He  just  looks  like  the  three-head- 
ed giant  in  Jack  the  Giant- Killer,"  explained 
Jimmy,  "  'cause  He  's  got  three  heads  and 
one  body.  His  heads  are  name'  Papa,  Son, 
and  Holy  Ghost,  and  His  body  is  just  name' 
plain  God.  Miss  Cecilia  'splained  it  all  to 
me  and  she  is  'bout  the  splendidest  'splainer 
they  is.    She  's  my  Sunday-School  teacher." 

"She  's  goin'  to  be  my  Sunday-School 
teacher,  too,"  said  Billy  serenely. 

"Yours  nothing;  you  all  time  want  my 
Sunday-School  teacher." 

"Jimmee !"  called  a  voice  from  the  interior 
of  the  house  in  the  next  yard. 

"Somebody  's  a-callin'  you,"  said  Billy. 

"That  ain't  nobody  but  mama,"  explained 
Jimmy  composedly. 

"Jimmee-ee!"  called  the  voice. 

"Don't  make  no  noise,"  warned  that  little 
boy,  "maybe  she  '11  give  up  toreckly." 

"You  Jimmee!"  his  mother  called  again. 

Jimmy  made  no  move  to  leave  the  swing. 

"I  don*  never  have  to  go  'less  she  says 


34]  Miss  Minerva  and 

'James  Lafayette  Garner,'  then  I  got  to  hus- 
tle," he  remarked. 

"Jimmy  Garner!" 

"She  's  mighty  near  got  me,"  he  said 
softly;  "but  maybe  she  '11  get  tired  and 
won't  call  no  more.  She  ain't  plumb  mad 
yet." 

"James  Garner!" 

"It 's  coming  now,"  said  Jimmy  dolefully. 

The  two  little  boys  sat  very  still  and  quiet. 

"James  Lafayette  Garner!" 

The  younger  child  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"I  got  to  get  a  move  on  now,"  he  said; 
"when  she  calls  like  that  she  means  busi- 
ness. I  betcher  she  's  got  a  switch  and  a 
hair-brush  and  a  slipper  in  her  hand  right 
this  minute.  I  '11  be  back  toreckly,"  he 
promised. 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  in  a  very 
short  time  he  was  sitting  again  facing  Billy 
in  the  swing. 

"She  just  wanted  to  know  where  her  em- 
broid'ry  scissors  was,"  he  explained.  "It 
don't  matter  what  's  lost  in  that  house  I  'm 
always  the  one  that  's  got  to  be  'sponsible 
and  all  time  got  to  go  look  for  it." 

"Did  you  find  'em?"  asked  Billy. 

"Yep;  I  went  right  straight  where  I  left 


William  Green  Hill  [35 

'em  yeste'day.  I  had  'em  trying  to  cut  a 
piece  of  wire.  I  stole  off  and  went  down  to 
Sam  Lamb's  house  this  morning  and  tooken 
breakfast  with  him  and  his  old  woman, 
Sukey,"  he  boasted. 

"I  knows  Sam  Lamb,"  said  Billy,  "I  rode 
up  on  the  bus  with  him." 

"He  's  my  partner,"  remarked  Jimmy. 

"He  's  mine,  too,"  said  Billy  quickly. 

"No,  he  ain't  neither ;  you  all  time  talking 
'bout  you  going  to  have  Sam  Lamb  for  a 
partner.  You  want  everything  I  got.  You 
want  Miss  Cecilia  and  you  want  Sam  Lamb. 
Well,  you  just  ain't  a-going  to  have  'em. 
You  got  to  get  somebody  else  for  your  part- 
ner and  sweetheart." 

"Well,  you  jest  wait  an'  see,"  said  Billy. 
"I  got  Major  Minerva." 

"Shucks,  they  ain't  no  Major  name'  that 
away,"  and  Jimmy  changed  the  subject. 
"Sam  Lamb's  sow  's  got  seven  little  pigs. 
He  lemme  see  'em  suck,"  said  Sam  Lamb's 
partner  proudly.  "He  's  got  a  cow,  too ;  she 
's  got  the  worrisomest  horns  ever  was.  I 
believe  she  's  a  steer  anyway." 

"Shucks,"  said  the  country  boy,  con- 
temptuously, "You  do'  know  a  steer  when 
you  see  one ;  you  can't  milk  no  steer." 


36]  Miss  Minerva  and 


CHAPTER  V 

TURNING  ON  THE  HOSE 

OOK!  Ain't  that  a  snake?" 
shrieked  Billy,  pointing  to 
what  looked  to  him  like  a  big 
|  snake  coiled  in  the  yard. 

"Snake,  nothing!"  sneered 
>his  companion,  "that  's  a 
hose.  You  all  time  got  to  call  a  hose  a 
snake.  Come  on,  let 's  sprinkle,"  and  Jimmy 
sprang  out  of  the  swing,  jerked  up  the  hose, 
and  dragged  it  to  the  hydrant.  "My  mama 
don't  never  'low  me  to  sprinkle  with  her 
hose,  but  Miss  Minerva  she  's  so  good  I  don' 
reckon  she  '11  care,"  he  cried  mendaciously. 
Billy  followed,  watched  his  companion 
screw  the  hose  to  the  faucet,  and  turn  the 
water  on.  There  was  a  hissing,  gurgling 
sound  and  a  stream  of  water  shot  out,  much 
to  the  rapture  of  the  astonished  Billy. 

"Won't  Aunt  Minerva  care?"  he  asked, 
anxiously.    "Is  she  a  real  'ligious  'oman?" 
"She  is  the  Christianest  woman  they  is," 


William  Green  Hill 


[37 


announced  the  other  child.  "Come  on,  we  '11 
sprinkle  the  street — and  I  don't  want  nobody 
to  get  in  our  way  neither." 

"I  wish  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  could  see 
us,"  said  Miss  Minerva's  nephew. 

A  big,  fat  negress,  with  a  bundle  of  clothes 
tied  in  a  red  table  cloth  on  her  head,  came 
waddling  down  the  sidewalk. 

Billy  looked  at  Jimmy  and  giggled  :  Jimmy 


looked  at  Billy  and  giggled ;  then,  the  latter 
took  careful  aim  and  a  stream  of  water  hit 
the  old  woman  squarely  in  the  face. 

"Who  dat?    What's  yo'  doin'?"  she  yelled, 
as  she  backed  off.    'I 's  a-gwine  to  tell  yo' 


38]  Miss  Minerva  and 

pappy,  Jimmy  Garner,"  as  she  recognized 
one  of  the  culprits.  "P'int  dat  ar  ho'e  'way 
f'om  me,  'to'  I  make  yo'  ma  spank  yuh  slab- 
sided.  I  got  to  git  home  an*  wash.  Drap  it, 
I  tell  yuh!" 

Two  little  girls  rolling  two  doll  buggies  in 
which  reposed  two  enormous  rag-babies 
were  seen  approaching. 

"That  's  Lina  Hamilton  and  Frances 
Black,"  said  Jimmy,  "they  're  my  chums." 

Billy  took  a  good  look  at  them.  "They  's 
goin'  to  be  my  chums,  too,"  he  said  calmly. 

"Your  chums,  nothing!"  angrily  cried 
Jimmy,  swelling  up  pompously.  "You  all 
time  trying  to  claim  my  chums.  I  can't  have 
nothing  a  tall  'thout  you  got  to  stick  your 
mouth  in.  You  'bout  the  selfishest  boy  they 
is.    You  want  everything  I  got,  all  time." 

The  little  girls  were  now  quite  near  and 
Jimmy  hailed  them  gleefully,  forgetful  of  his 
anger : 

"Come  on,  Lina,  you  and  Frances,"  he 
shrieked,  "and  we  can  have  the  mostest  fun. 
Billy  here  's  done  come  to  live  with  Miss  Mi- 
nerva and  she  's  done  gone  up  town  and 
don't  care  if  we  sprinkle,  'cause  she  's  got  so 
much  'ligion." 


William  Green  Hill  [39 

"But  you  know  none  of  us  are  allowed  to 
use  a  hose,"  objected  Lina. 

"But  it 's  so  much  fun,"  said  Jimmy ;  "and 
Miss  Minerva  she  's  so  Christian  she  ain't 
going  to  raise  much  of  a  rough-house,  and  if 
she  do  we  can  run  when  we  see  her  coming." 

"I  can't  run,"  said  Billy,  "I  ain't  got  no- 
where to  run  to  an' " 

"If  that  ain't  just  like  you,  Billy,"  inter- 
rupted Jimmy,  "all  time  talking  'bout  you 
ain't  got  nowhere  to  run  to ;  you  don't  want 
nobody  to  have  no  fun.  You  'bout  the  pica- 
yunest  boy  they  is." 

Little  Ikey  Rosenstein,  better  known  as 
"Goose-Grease,"  dressed  in  a  cast-off  suit 
of  his  big  brother's,  with  his  father's  hat  set 
rakishly  back  on  his  head  and  over  his  ears, 
was  coming  proudly  down  the  street  some 
distance  off. 

"Yonder  comes  Goose-Grease  Rosen- 
stein," said  Jimmy  gleefully.  "When  he  gets 
right  close  le's  make  him  hop." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Billy,  his  good  humor 
restored,  "le's  baptize  him  good." 

"Oh,  we  can't  baptize  him,"  exclaimed  the 
other  little  boy,  "  'cause  he  's  a  Jew  and  the 
Bible  says  not  to  baptize  Jews.  You  got 
to  mesmerize  'em.    How  come  me  to  know 


40]  Miss  Minerva  and 

so  much?"  he  continued  condescendingly, 
"Miss  Cecilia  teached  me  in  the  Sunday- 
School.  Sometimes  I  know  so  much  I 
I  feel  like  I  'm  going  to  bust.  She  teached 
me  'bout  'Scuffle  little  chillens  and  forbid 
'em  not,'  and  'bout  'Ananias  telled  Sapphira 
he  done  it  with  his  little  hatchet,'  and  'bout 
'  'Lijah  jumped  over  the  moon  in  a  auto- 
mobile.' I  know  everything  what 's  in  the 
Bible.  Miss  Cecilia  sure  is  a  cracker-jack; 
she 's  'bout  the  stylishest  Sunday-School 
teacher  they  ic." 

"  'T  was  the  cow  jumped  over  the  moon," 
said  Frances,  "and  it  is  n't  in  the  Bible ;  it 's 
in  Mother  Goose." 

"And  Elijah  went  to  Heaven  in  a  chariot 
of  fire,"  corrected  Lina. 

"And  I  know  all  'bout  Gabr'el,"  continued 
Jimmy  unabashed.  "When  folks  called  him 
to  blow  his  trumpet  he  was  under  the  hay- 
stack fast  asleep." 

Ikey  was  quite  near  by  this  time  to  com- 
mand the  attention  of  the  four  children. 

"Let 's  mesmerize  Goose-Grease,"  yelled 
Jimmy,  as  he  turned  the  stream  of  water  full 
upon  him. 

Frances,  Lina,  and  Billy  clapped  their 
hands  and  laughed  for  joy. 


William  Green  Hill  [4t 

With  a  terrified  and  angry  shriek  their 
victim,  dripping  water  at  every  step,  ran 
howling  by  his  tormentors.  When  he 
reached  a  safe  distance  he  turned  around, 
shook  a  fist  at  them,  and  screamed  back : 

"My  papa  is  going  to  have  you  all  ar- 
rested and  locked  up  in  the  calaboose." 

"Calaboose,  nothing!"  jeered  Jimmy. 
"You  all  time  wanting  to  put  somebody  in 
the  calaboose  'cause  they  mesmerize  you. 
You  got  to  be  mesmerized  'cause  it 's  in  the 
Bible." 

A  short,  stout  man,  dressed  in  neat  black 
clothes,  was  coming  toward  them. 

"Oh,  that's  the  Major!"  screamed  Billy 
delightedly,  taking  the  hose  and  squaring 
himself  to  greet  his  friend  of  the  train,  but 
Jimmy  jerked  it  out  of  his  hand,  before 
either  of  them  noticed  him  turning  about,  as 
if  for  something  forgotten. 

"You  ain't  got  the  sense  of  a  one-eyed 
tadpole,  Billy,"  he  said.  "That 's  Miss  Mi- 
nerva's beau.  He  's  been  loving  her  more  'n 
a  million  years.  My  mama  says  he  ain't 
never  going  to  marry  nobody  a  tall  'thout 
he  can  get  Miss  Minerva,  and  Miss  Minerva 
she  just  turns  up  her  nose  at  anything  that 
wears  pants.     You  better  not  sprinkle  him. 


42]  Miss  Minerva  and 

He  's  been  to  the  war  and  got  his  big  toe 
shot  off.  He  kilt  'bout  a  million  Injuns  and 
Yankees  and  he  's  name'  Major  'cause  he  's 
a  Confed'rit  vetrun.  He  went  to  the  war 
when  he  ain't  but  fourteen." 

"Did  he  have  on  long  pants?"  asked  Billy. 
"I  call  him  Major  Minerva  — " 

"Gladys  Maude  's  got  the  pennyskeeters," 
broke  in  Frances  importantly,  fussing  over 
her  baby,  "and  I  'm  going  to  see  Doctor  San- 
ford.  Don't  you  think  she  looks  pale, 
Jimmy?" 

"Pale,  nothing!"  sneered  the  little  boy. 
"Girls  got  to  all  time  play  their  dolls  are 
sick.  Naw;  I  don't  know  nothing  a  tall 
'bout  your  Gladys  Maude." 

Lina  gazed  up  the  street. 

"That  looks  like  Miss  Minerva  to  me  'way 
up  yonder,"  she  remarked.  "I  think  we  had 
better  get  away  from  here  before  she  sees 
us." 

Two  little  girls  rolling  two  doll  buggies 
fairly  flew  down  the  street  and  one  little  boy 
quickly  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  dividing 
fence.  From  this  safe  vantage  point  he 
shouted  to  Billy,  who  was  holding  the  nozzle 
of  the  hose  out  of  which  poured  a  stream  of 
water. 


William  Green  Hill  [4$ 

"You  *d  better  turn  that  water  off  'cause 
Miss  Minerva  's  going  to  be  madder  'n  a 
green  persimmon." 

"I  do'  know  how  to,"  said  Billy  forlornly. 
"You  turnt  it  on." 

"Drop  the  hose  and  run  to  the  hydrant 
and  twist  that  little  thing  at  the  top," 
screamed  Jimmy.  "You  all  time  got  to  per- 
pose  someping  to  get  little  boys  in  trouble 
anyway,"  he  added  ungenerously. 

"You  perposed  this  yo'self,"  declared  an 
indignant  Billy.  "You  said  Aunt  Minerva  's 
so  'ligious  she  would  n't  git  mad." 

"Christian  womans  can  get  just  as  mad  as 
any  other  kind,"  declared  the  other  boy, 
sliding  from  his  perch  on  the  fence  and  run- 
ning across  his  lawn  to  disappear  behind  his 
own  front  door. 

Holding  her  skirts  nearly  up  to  her  knees 
Miss  Minerva  stepped  gingerly  along  the 
wet  and  muddy  street  till  she  got  to  her  gate, 
where  her  nephew  met  her,  looking  a  little 
guilty,  but  still  holding  his  head  up  with  that 
characteristic,  manly  air  which  was  so  at- 
tractive. 

"William,"  she  said  sternly,  "I  see  you 
have  been  getting  into  mischief,  and  I  feel 
it  my  duty  to  punish  you,  so  that  you  may 


44]  Miss  Minerva  and 

learn  to  be  trustworthy.  I  said  nothing  to 
you  about  the  hose  because  I  did  not  think 
you  would  know  how  to  use  it." 

Billy  remained  silent.  He  did  not  want  to 
betray  his  little  companions  of  the  morning, 
so  he  said  nothing  in  his  own  defense. 

"Come  with  me  into  the  house,"  continued 
his  aunt,  "you  must  go  to  bed  at  once." 

But  the  child  protested  vigorously. 

"Don'  make  me  go  to  bed  in  the  day- 
time, Aunt  Minerva;  me  an'  Wilkes  Booth 
Lincoln  ain't  never  went  to  bed  in  the  day- 
time since  we  's  born,  an'  I  ain't  never  hear 
tell  of  a  real  'ligious  'oman  a-puttin'  a  little 
boy  in  bed  'fore  it  's  dark;  an'  I  ain't  never 
a-goin'  to  meddle  with  yo'  ole  hose  no  mo'." 

But  Miss  Minerva  was  obdurate,  and  the 
little  boy  spent  a  miserable  hour  between  the 
sheets. 


William  Green  Hill  [45 


CHAPTER  VI 

SUCCESSFUL   STRATEGY. 

HAVE  a  present  for  you," 
said  his  aunt,  handing  Billy 
a  long,  rectangular  package. 
"Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said 
her  beaming  nephew  as  he 
sat  down  on  the  floor,  all- 
eager  anticipation,  and  began  to  untie  the 
string.  His  charming,  changeful  face  was 
bright  and  happy  again,  but  his  expression 
became  one  of  indignant  amaze  as  he  saw 
the  contents  of  the  box. 

"What  I   want  with   a   doll?"   he   asked 
angrily,  "I  ain't  no  girl." 

"I  think  every  little  boy  should  have  a 
doll  and  learn  to  make  clothes  for  it,"  said 
Miss  Minerva.  "I  don't  want  you  to  be  a 
great,  rough  boy;  I  want  you  to  be  sweet 
and  gentle  like  a  little  girl;  I  am  going  to 
teach  you  how  to  sew  and  cook  and  sweep, 
so  you  may  grow  up  a  comfort  to  me." 
This  was  a  gloomy  forecast  for  the  little 


46]  Miss  Minerva,  and 

boy  accustomed,  as  he  had  been,  to  the  free- 
dom of  a  big  plantation,  and  he  scowled 
darkly. 

"Me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  ain't  never 
hafter  play  with  no  dolls  sence  we  's  born," 
he  replied  sullenly,  "we  goes  in  swimmin'  an' 
plays  baseball.  I  can  knock  a  home-run  an' 
pitch  a  curve  an'  ketch  a  fly.  Why  don't 
you  gimme  a  baseball  bat?  I  already  got  a 
ball  what  Admiral  Farragut  gimme.  An'  I 
ain't  a-goin'  to  be  no  sissy  neither.     Lina 

an'  Frances  plays  dolls,  me  an'  Jimmy " 

he  stopped  in  sudden  confusion. 

"Lina  and  Frances  and  James !"  exclaimed 
his  aunt.  "What  do  you  know  about  them, 
William?" 

The  child's  face  flushed.  "I  seen  'em  this 
mornin',"  he  acknowledged. 

Miss  Minerva  put  a  hand  on  either  shoul- 
der  and  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 

"William,  who  started  that  sprinkling  this 
morning?"  she  questioned,  sharply. 

Bilty  flushed  guiltily  and  lowered  his  eye- 
lids; but  only  for  an  instant.  Quickly  re- 
covering his  composure  he  returned  her  gaze 
steadily  and  ignored  her  question. 

"I  see  yo'  beau  too,  Aunt  Minerva,"  he 
remarked  tranquilly. 


William  Green  Hill  [47 

It  was  Miss  Minerva  this  time  who  lost 
her  composure,  for  her  thin,  sallow  face  be- 
came perfectly  crimson. 

"My  beau?"  she  asked  confusedly.  "Who 
put  that  nonsense  into  your  head?" 

"Jimmy  show  him  to  me,"  he  replied 
jauntily,  once  more  master  of  the  situation 
and  in  full  realization  of  the  fact.  "Why 
don't  you  marry  him,  Aunt  Minerva,  so  's  he 
could  live  right  here  with  us?  An'  I  could 
learn  him  how  to  churn.  I  s'pec'  he  'd 
make  a  beautiful  churner.  He  sho'  is  a 
pretty  little  fat  man,"  he  continued  flatter- 
ingly. "An'  dress?  That  beau  was  jest 
dressed  plumb  up  to  the  top  notch.  I  sho' 
would  marry  him  if  I  's  you  an'  not  turn  up 
my  nose  at  him  'cause  he  wears  pants,  an' 
you  can  learn  him  how  to  talk  properer  'n 
what  he  do  an*  I  betcher  he  'd  jest  nachelly 
take  to  a  broom,  an'  I  s'pec*  he  ain't  got  no- 
body 't  all  to  show  him  how  to  sew.  An'  y' 
all  could  get  the  doctor  to  fetch  you  a  little 
baby  so  he  wouldn't  hafter  play  with  no 
doll.  I  sho'  wisht  we  had  him  here,"  ended  a 
selfish  Billy,  "he  could  save  me  a  lot  of  steps. 
An'  I  sho'  would  like  to  hear  'bout  all  them 
Injuns  an'  Yankees  what  he 's  killed." 

Billy's  aunt  was  visibly  embarrassed. 


48]  cMiss  SMinerva.  and 

The  persistent  admiration  of  this,  her  one 
lover,  had  been  pleasing  to  her,  yet  she  had 
never  been  willing  to  sacrifice  her  independ- 
ence for  the  cares  and  trials  of  matrimony. 
The  existing  state  of  affairs  between  the  two 
was  known  to  every  one  in  the  small  town, 
but  such  was  Miss  Minerva's  dignified  aloof- 
ness that  Billy  was  the  first  person  who  had 
ever  dared  to  broach  the  subject  to  her. 

"Sit  down  here,  William,"  she  commanded, 
"and  I  will  read  to  you." 

"Tell  me  a  tale,"  he  said,  looking  up  at 
her  with  his  bright,  sweet  smile.  The  doll 
lay  neglected  on  a  chair  near  by  and  Billy 
wanted  her  to  forget  it. 

"Tell  me  'bout  Piljerk  Peter." 

"Piljerk  Peter?"  there  was  an  interroga- 
tion in  her  voice. 

"Yas  'm.  Ain't  you  never  hear  tell  'bout 
Piljerk  Peter?  He  had  fifteen  chillens  an' 
one  time  the  las'  one  of  'em  an'  his  ole  'oman 
was  down  with  the  fever  an'  he  ain't  got  but 
one  pill  an'  they  so  sick  they  mos'  *bout  to 
die  an'  ain't  nobody  in  the  fiel'  fer  to  pick 
the  cotton  an'  he  can't  git  no  doctor  an'  he 
ain't  got  but  jest  that  one  pill ;  so  he  tie  that 
pill  to  a  string  an'  let  the  bigges'  chile  swal- 
ler  it  an'  draw  it  back  up  an*  let  the  nex' 


William  Green  Hilt  [49 

chile  s waller  it  an'  jerk  it  back  up  an'  let  the 
nex'  chile  swaller  it  an'  jerk  it  back  up  an' 
let  the  nex'  chile  swaller  it  an'  jerk  it  back 
up  an'  let  the  nex' ." 

"I  don't  believe  in  telling  tales  to  chil- 
dren," interrupted  his  aunt,  "I  will  tell  you 
biographical  and  historical  stories  and  stor- 
ies from  the  Bible.  Now  listen,  while  I  read 
to  you." 

"An'  the  nex'  chile  swaller  it  an'  he  jerk 
it  back  up,"  continued  Billy  serenely,  "an' 
the  nex'  chile  swaller  it  an'  he  jerk  it  back 
up  tell  finely  ev'y  single  one  of  'em,  plumb 
down  to  the  baby,  swaller  that  pill  an'  the 
las'  one  of  'em  got  well  an'  that  one  pill  it 
done  the  work.  Then  he  tuck  the  pill  and 
give  it  to  his  ole  'oman  an'  she  swaller  it  an' 
he  jerk  it  back  up  but  did  n't  no  thin*  't  all 
come  up  but  jest  the  string  an'  his  ole  'oman 
she  died  'cause  all  the  strenk  done  gone 
outer  that  pill." 

Miss  Minerva  opened  a  book  called  "Gems 
for  the  Household,"  which  she  had  pur- 
chased from  a  silver-tongued  book-agent. 
She  selected  an  article  the  subject  of  which 
was  "The  Pure  in  Heart." 

Billy  listened  with  a  seemingly  attentive 
ear  to  the  choice  flow  of  wrords,  but  in  reality 


50]  Miss  Minerva  and 

his    little   brain    was    busy   with    its    own 
thoughts.     The  article  closed  with  the  sug- 
gestion that  if  one  were  innocent  and  pure 
he  would  have  a  dreamless  sleep: 
"If  you  have  a  conscience  clear, 
And  God's  commands  you  keep ; 
If  your  heart  is  good  and  pure, 
You  will  have  a  perfect  sleep." 

Billy's  aunt  concluded.  Wishing  to  know 
if  he  had  understood  what  she  had  just  read 
she  asked : 

"What  people  sleep  the  soundest?" 

"Niggers,"  was  his  prompt  reply,  as  he 
thought  of  the  long  summer  days  and  the 
colored  folk  on  the  plantation. 

She  was  disappointed,  but  not  discour- 
aged. 

"Now,  William,"  she  admonished,  "I  'm 
going  to  read  you  another  piece,  and  I  want 
you  to  tell  me  about  it,  when  I  get  through. 
Pay  strict  attention." 

"Yas  'm,"  he  readily  agreed. 

She  chose  an  article  describing  the  keen 
sense  of  smell  in  animals.  Miss  Minerva 
was  not  an  entertaining  reader  and  the  words 
were  long  and  fairly  incomprehensible  to 
the  little  boy  sitting  patiently  at  her  side- 


William  Green  Hill  [51 

Again  his  thoughts  wandered,  though 
every  now  and  then  he  caught  a  word  or 
two. 

"What  animals  have  the  keenest  sense  of 
smell,  William?"  was  her  query  at  the  con- 
clusion of  her  reading. 

"Billy  goats,"  was  Billy's  answer  without 
the  slightest  hesitation. 

"You  have  goats  on  the  brain,"  she  said 
in  anger.  "I  did  not  read  one  word  about 
billy  goats." 

"Well,  if  't  aint  a  billy  goat,"  he  replied, 
"I  do'  know  what 't  is  'thout  it  's  a  skunk." 

"I  bought  you  a  little  primer  this  morn- 
ing," she  remarked  after  a  short  silence, 
"and  I  want  you  to  say  a  lesson  every 
day." 

"I  already  knows  a  lot,"  he  boasted. 
"Tabernicle,  he  an*  Mercantile  both  been  to 
school  an'  they  learnt  me  an'  Wilkes  Booth 
Lincoln.  I  knows  crooked  S,  an'  broken 
back  K,  an'  curly  tail  Q,  an*  roun'  O,  an*  I 
can  spell  c-a-t  cat,  an*  d-o-g  dog  an*  A  stands 
fer  apple." 

That  night  he  concluded  his  ever  lengthy 
prayer  at  his  kinswoman's  knee  with : 

"O  Lord,  please  make  for  Aunt  Minerva  a 
little  baby,  make  her  two  of  'em.     O  Lord, 


52]  Miss  Minerva  and 

if  you  got  'em  to  spare  please  make  her 
three  little  babies  •an'  let  'em  all  be  girls  so  's 
she  can  learn  'em  how  to  churn  an'  sew. 
An'  bless  Aunt  Minerva  and  Major  Minerva, 
f'r  ever  'nd  ever.     Amen." 

As  he  rose  from  his  knees  he  asked: 
"Aunt  Minerva,  do  God  work  on  Sunday?" 

"No-o,"  answered  his  relative,  hesitat- 
ingly. 

"Well,  it  look  like  He  'd  jest  hafter  work 
on  Sunday,  He  's  so  busy  jest  a-makin' 
babies.  He  makes  all  the  niggers  an' 
heathens  an'  Injuns  an'  white  chillens;  I 
reckon  He  gits  somebody  to  help  him.  Don't 
you,  Aunt  Minerva?" 


William  Green  Hill  [53 


CHAPTER  Vn 

RABBITS'    AND    OTHER    EGGS 

ILLY  was  sitting  in  the 
swing.  Jimmy  crawled  over 
the  fence  and  joined  him. 

"Miss  Cecilia  's  dyeing  me 
some  Easter  eggs,"  he  said, 
"all  blue  and  pink  and  green 
and  yelluh  and  every  kind  they  is ;  I  tooken 
her  some  of  our  hen's  eggs  and  she  is  going 
to  fix  'em  for  me  and  they  '11  be  just  like 
rabbit's  eggs;  I  reckon  I  '11  have  'bout  a 
million.  I  '11  give  you  one,"  he  added  gen- 
erously. 

"I  want  more  'n  one,"  declared  Billy,  who 
was  used  to  having  the  lion's  share  of  every- 
thing. 

"You  all  time  talking  'bout  you  want 
more  'n  one  egg/'  said  Jimmy.  "You  'bout 
the  stingiest  Peter  they  is.  Ain't  you  got 
no  eggs?  Get  Miss  Minerva  to  give  you 
some  of  hers  and  I  '11  take  'em  over  and 


54]  cMiss  Minerva,  and 

ask  Miss  Cecilia  to  dye  'em  for  you  'cause 
you  ain't  'quainted  with  her  yet." 

"Aunt  Minerva  ain't  got  none  'cep'in' 
what  she  put  under  a  ol'  hen  fer  to  set  this 
mornin'." 

"Can't  you  get  'em  from  under  the  old 
hen?  Miss  Minerva  is  such  a  Christian 
woman,  she  ain't " 

"You  done  fool  me  'bout  that  'ligious  busi- 
ness befo',"  interrupted  Billy,  "an'  I  got  put 
to  bed  in  the  daytime." 

"Well,  she  won't  never  miss  two  or  three 
eggs,"  coaxed  Jimmy.  "How  many  did  she 
put  under  the  old  hen?" 

"She  put  fifteen,"  was  the  response,  "an' 
I  don't  believe  she  'd  want  me  to  tech  'em." 

"They  're  'bout  the  prettiest  eggs  ever 
was,"  continued  the  tempter,  "all  blue  and 
pink  and  green,  and  'bout  a  million  kinds. 
They  're  just  perzactly  like  rabbit's  eggs." 

"Me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  ain't 
never  hear  teller  no  rabbit's  eggs  sence  we  's 
born,"  said  Billy;  "I  don't  berlieve  rabbits 
lays  eggs  nohow." 

"They  don'  lay  'em  'cept  to  Easter,"  said 
Jimmy.  "Miss  Cecilia  'splained  it  all  to  me 
and  she  's  my  Sunday-School  teacher  and 
rabbits  is  bound  to  lay  eggs  'cause  it  's  in 


William  Green  Hill  [55 

the  Bible  and  she  's  'bout  the  prettiest 
'splainer  they  is.  I  'm  going  over  there  now 
to  see  'bout  my  eggs,"  and  he  made  believe 
to  leave  the  swing. 

"Le's  us  slip  roun'  to  the  hen-house  an' 
see  what  the  oP  hen's  a-doin',"  suggested  the 
sorely  tempted  Billy.  "Aunt  Minerva  is 
a-makin'  me  some  night-shirts  an'  she  ain't 
takin'  no  notice  of  nothin'  else." 

They  tiptoed  stealthily  around  the  house 
to  the  back-yard,  but  found  the  hen-house 
door  locked. 

"Can't  you  get  the  key?"  asked  the 
younger  child. 

"Naw,  I  can't,"  replied  the  other  boy, 
"but  you  can  git  in  th'oo  this-here  little  hole 
what  the  chickens  goes  in  at,  whiles  I 
watches  fer  Aunt  Minerva.  I  '11  stand  right 
here  an'  hoi'  my  cap  whiles  you  fetches  me 
the  eggs.  An'  don't  you  take  more  'n  five 
or  six,"  he  warned. 

"I  'm  skeered  of  the  old  hen,"  objected 
Jimmy.     "Is  she  much  of  a  pecker?" 

"Naw,  she  ain't  a-goin'  to  hurt  you,"  was 
the  encouraging  reply.  "Git  up  an'  crawl 
th'oo;  I'll  help  you." 

Billy,  having  overcome  his  scruples,  now 


56]  Miss  cMinertta.  and 

entered  into  the  undertaking  with  great 
zest. 

Jimmy  climbed  the  chicken  ladder,  kicked 
his  chubby  legs  through  the  aperture,  hung 
suspended  on  his  fat  little  middle  for  an 
instant,  and  finally,  with  much  panting  and 
tugging,  wriggled  his  plump,  round  body 
into  the  hen-house.  He  walked  over  where 
a  lonesome  looking  hen  was  sitting  pa- 
tiently on  a  nest.  He  put  out  a  cautious 
hand  and  the  hen  promptly  gave  it  a  vicious 
peck. 

"Billy,"  he  called  angrily,  "you  got  to 
come  in  here  and  hold  this  old  chicken; 
she  's  'bout  the  terriblest  pecker  they  is." 

Billy  stuck  his  head  in  the  little  square 
hole.  "Go  at  her  from  behind,"  he  sug- 
gested; "put  yo'  hand  under  her  easy  like, 
an'  don'  let  her  know  what  you  's  up  to." 

Jimmy  tried  to  follow  these  instructions, 
but  received  another  peck  for  his  pains.  He 
promptly  mutinied. 

"If  you  want  any  eggs,"  he  declared, 
scowling  at  the  face  framed  in  the  aperture, 
"you  can  come  get  'em  yourself.  I  done 
monkeyed  with  this  chicken  all  I  'm  going 
to." 

So  Billy  climbed  up  and  easily  got  his  lean 


William  Green  Hill  [57 

little  body  through  the  opening.  He  dex- 
terously caught  the  hen  by  the  nape  of  the 
neck,  as  he  had  seen  Aunt  Cindy  do,  while 
Jimmy  reached  for  the  eggs. 

"If  we  ain't  done  lef  my  cap  outside  on 
the  groun',"  said  Billy.  "What  we  goin'  to 
put  the  eggs  in?" 

"Well,  that's  just  like  you,  Billy,  you  all 
time  got  to  leave  your  cap  on  the  ground. 
I  '11  put  'em  in  my  blouse  till  you  get  out- 
side and  then  I  '11  hand  'em  to  you.  How 
many  you  going  to  take?" 

"We  might  just  as  well  git  'em  all  now," 
said  Billy.  "Aunt  Cindy  say  they  's  some 
kinder  hens  won't  lay  no  chickens  't  all  if 
folks  put  they  hands  in  they  nests  an'  this 
here  hen  look  like  to  me  she  's  one  of  them 
kind,  so  the  rester  the  egg  '11  jest  be  waste, 
any  how,  'cause  you  done  put  yo'  han's  in 
her  nes',  an'  a  dominicker  ain't  a-goin'  to 
stan'  no  projeckin'  with  her  eggs.  Hurry 
up." 

Jimmy  carefully  distributed  the  eggs  in- 
side his  blouse,  and  Billy  once  more  crawled 
through  the  hole  and  stood  on  the  outside 
waiting,  cap  in  hand,  to  receive  them. 

But  the  patient  hen  had  at  last  raised  her 
voice  in  angry  protest  and  set  up  a  furious 


bd] 


Miss  Minerva,  and 


cackling,  which  so  frightened  the  little  boy 
on  the  inside  that  he  was  panic-stricken. 
He  caught  hold  of  a  low  roost  pole,  swung 
himself  up   and,   wholly  unmindful   of  his 


blouse  full  of  eggs,  pushed  his  lower  limbs 
through  the  hole  and  stuck  fast.  A  pair  of 
chubby,    sturdy    legs,    down   which    were 


William  Green  Hill  [59 

slowly  trickling  little  yellow  rivulets,  and 
half  of  a  plump,  round  body  were  all  that 
would  go  through. 

"Pull!"  yelled  the  owner  of  the  short  fat 
legs.  "I  'm  stuck  and  can't  go  no  furder. 
Pull  me  th'oo,  Billy." 

About  this  time  the  defrauded  fowl  flew 
from  her  nest  and  attempted  to  get  out  by 
her  rightful  exit.  Finding  it  stopped  up  by 
a  wriggling,  squirming  body  she  perched 
herself  on  the  little  boy's  neck  and  flapped 
her  enraged  wings  in  his  face. 

"Pull!"  yelled  the  child  again,  "help  me 
th'oo,  Billy,  'fore  this  fool  chicken  pecks  all 
the  meat  off  'm  my  bones." 

Billy  grabbed  the  sticky  limbs  and  gave  a 
valiant  tug,  but  the  body  did  not  move  an 
inch.  Alas,  Jimmy  with  his  cargo  of  broken 
eggs  was  fast  imprisoned. 

"Pull  again!"  yelled  the  scared  and  angry 
child,  "you  'bout  the  idjetest  idjet  they  is  if 
you  can't  do  no  better  'n  that." 

Billy  jerked  with  all  his  strength,  but  with 
no  visible  result. 

"Pull  harder!  You  no-count  gump!" 
screamed  the  prisoner,  beating  off  the  hen 
with  his  hands. 

The  boy  on  the  outside,  who  was  strong 


60]  Miss  Minerva  and 

for  his  years,  braced  himself  and  gave  a 
mighty  wrench  of  the  other  child's  stout 
extremities.  Jimmy  howled  in  pain  and 
gave  his  friend  an  energetic  kick. 

"Lemme  go!"  he  shrieked,  "you  old  im- 
pe'dunt  backbiter.  I  'm  going  to  tell  Miss 
Minerva  you  pulled  my  legs  out  by  the 
roots." 

A  small  portion  of  the  prisoner's  blouse 
was  visible.  Billy  caught  hold  of  it  and 
gave  a  strong  jerk.  There  was  a  sound  of 
ripping  and  tearing  and  the  older  boy  fell 
sprawling  on  his  back  with  a  goodly  portion 
of  the  younger  child's  raiment  in  his  hands. 

"Now  see  what  you  done,"  yelled  the  vic- 
tim of  his  energy,  "you  ain't  got  the  sense  of 
a  buffalo  gnat.  Oh !  oh !  This  hole  is  'bout 
to  cut  my  stomach  open." 

"Hush,  Jimmy!"  warned  the  other  child. 
"Don't  make  so  much  noise.  Aunt  Minerva 
'11  hear  you." 

"I  want  her  to  hear  me,"  screamed  Jimmy. 
"You  'd  like  me  to  stay  stuck  in  a  chicken 
hole  all  night.     Oh !  oh !  oh !" 

The  noise  did  indeed  bring  Billy's  aunt 
out  on  a  tour  of  investigation.  She  had  to 
knock  a  plank  off  the  hen-house  with  an  axe 
before    Jimmy's    release    could    be    accom- 


WtllUm  Green  Hill  [61 

piished.  He  was  lifted  down,  red,  angry, 
sticky,  and  perspiring,  and  was  indeed  a 
sight  to  behold. 

"Billy  got  to  all  time  perpose  something 
to  get  little  boys  in  trouble,"  he  growled, 
"and  got  to  all  time  get  'em  stuck  in  a  hole 
in  a  chicken-house.,, 

"My  nephew's  name  is  William,"  cor- 
rected she. 

"You  perposed  this  here  yo'self!"  cried 
an  indignant  Billy.  "Me  an'  Wilkes  Booth 
Lincoln  don'  know  nothin'  't  all  'bout  no 
rabbit's  eggs  sence  we  's  born." 

"It  does  n't  matter  who  proposed  it,"  said 
his  aunt  firmly.  "You  are  going  to  be  pun- 
ished, William.  I  have  just  finished  one  of 
your  night-shirts.  Come  with  me  and  put 
it  on  and  go  to  bed.  Jimmy,  you  go  home 
and  show  yourself  to  your  mother." 

"Pick  up  yo'  shirt-tail  offer  the  groun' 
what  I  tore  off,  Jimmy,"  advised  Billy,  "an' 
take  it  home  to  yo'  ma.  Aunt  Minerva,"  he 
pleaded,  following  mournfully  behind  her, 
"please  don't  put  me  to  bed;  the  Major  he 
don'  go  to  bed  no  daytimes;  I  won't  never 
get  me  no  mo'  eggs  to  make  rabbit's  eggs 
outer." 


62]  Miss  cMineiba  and 


CHAPTER  Vin 

TELLERS  OF  TALES 

HE  days  flew  rapidly  by. 
Miss  Minerva  usually  at- 
tempted to  train  Billy  all 
the  morning,  and  by  the  mid- 
day dinner  hour  she  was  so 
exhausted  that  she  was  glad 
to  let  him  play  in  the  front  yard  during  the 
afternoon. 

Here  he  was  often  joined  by  the  three 
children  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made 
the  day  after  his  arrival,  and  the  quartette 
became  staunch  friends  and  chums. 

All  four  were  sitting  in  the  swing  one 
warm  spring  day,  under  the  surveillance  of 
Billy's  aunt,  sewing  on  the  veranda. 
"Let 's  tell  tales,"  suggested  Jimmy. 
"All   right,"   agreed   Frances.     "I   '11  tell 

the  first.     Once  there  's " 

"Naw,  you  ain't  neither,"  interrupted  the 
little  boy.  "You  all  time  talking  'bout  you 
going  to  tell  the  first  tale.    I  'm  going  to  tell 


William  Green  Hill  [63 

the  first  tale  myself.    One  time  they  *s " 

"No,  you  are  not  either,''  said  Lina  posi- 
tively. "Frances  is  a  girl  and  she  ought  to 
be  the  first  if  she  wants  to.  Don't  you  think 
so,  Billy?" 

"Yas,  I  does,"  championed  he;  "go  on, 
Frances." 

That  little  girl,  thus  encouraged,  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  the  first  tale : 

"Once  there  's  a  man  named  Mr.  Elisha, 
and  he  had  a  friend  named  Mr.  Elijah,  so  his 
mantelpiece  fell  on  top  of  his  head  and  make 
him  perfectly  bald;  he  has  n't  got  a  single 
hair  and  he  has  n't  got  any  money,  'cause 
mama  read  me  'bout  he  rented  his  garments, 
which  is  clo'es,  'cause  he  did  n't  have  none 
at  all  what  belong  to  him.  I  s'pec*  he  just 
rented  him  a  shirt  and  a  pair  o'  breeches  and 
wore  'em  next  to  his  hide  'thout  no  under- 
shirt at  all.  He  was  drea'ful  poor  and  had  a 
miser'ble  time  and  old  mean  Mr.  Per'dven- 
ture  took  him  up  on  a  high  mountain  and 
left  him,  so  when  he  come  down  some  bad 
little  childern  say,  'Go  'long  back,  bald 
head!'  and  they  make  pock-mocks  on  him. 
Seems  like  everybody  treat  him  bad,  so  he 
cuss  'em,  so  I  never  see  anybody  with  a  bald 
head  'thout  I  run,  'cause  I  don't  want  to  get 


64]  cMiss  Minerva,  and 

cussed.  So  two  Teddy  bears  come  out  of 
the  woods  and  ate  up  forty-two  hunderd  of 
em. 

"Why,  Frances,"  reproved  Lina,  "you  al- 
ways get  things  wrong.  I  don't  believe  they 
ate  up  that  many  children." 

"Yes,  they  did  too,"  championed  Jimmy, 
"  'cause  it  's  in  the  Bible  and  Miss  Cecilia 
'splained  all  'bout  it  to  me,  and  she's  our 
Sunday-School  teacher  and  'bout  the  bully- 
est  'splainer  they  is.  Them  Teddy  bears  ate 
up  'bout  a  million  chillens,  which  is  all  the 
little  boys  and  girls  two  Teddy  bears  can 
hold  at  a  time." 

"I  knows  a  man  what  ain't  got  no  hair 
't  all  on  his  head,"  remarked  Billy;  "he's  a 
conjure-man  an'  me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lin- 
coln been  talkin'  to  him  ever  sence  we  's 
born  an'  he  ain't  never  cuss  us,  an'  I  ain't 
never  got  eat  up  by  no  Teddy  bears  neither. 
Huccome  him  to  be  bald?  He's  out  in  the 
fiel'  one  day  a-pickin'  cotton  when  he  see  a 
tu'key  buzzard  an'  he  talk  to  her  like  this: 
"  'I  say  tu'key  buzzard,  I  say, 
Who  shall  I  see  unexpected  today?' 

"If  she  flop  her  wings  three  times  you 
goin'  to  see  yo'  sweetheart,  but  this-here 
buzzard  ain't  flop  no  wings  't  all;  she  jes' 


William  Green  Hill  [65 

lean  over  an'  th'ow  up  on  his  head  an'  he 
been  bald  ever  sence ;  ev'y  single  hair  come 
out." 

"Did  you-all  hear  'bout  that  'Talian  Dago 
that  works  on  the  section  gang  eating  a  buz- 
zard?" asked  Frances. 

"Naw,"  said  Billy.  "Did  it  make  him 
sick?" 

"That  it  did,"  she  answered;  "he  sent  for 
Doctor  Sanford  and  tells  him,  'Me  killa  de 
big  bird,  me  eat-a  de  big  bird,  de  big  bird 
make-a  me  seek.'  " 

"Them  Dagoes  'bout  the  funniest  talking 
folks  they  is,"  said  Jimmy,  "but  they  got  to 
talk  that  way  'cause  it 's  in  the  Bible.  They 
'sputed  on  the  tower  of  Babel  and  the  Lord 
say  'Confound  you!'  Miss  Cecilia  'splained 
it  all  to  me  and  she  's  'bout  the  dandiest 
'splainer  they  is." 

"You  may  tell  your  tale  now,  Jimmy," 
said  Lina. 

"I  'm  going  to  tell  'bout  William  Tell 
'cause  he  's  in  the  Bible,"  said  Jimmy. 
"Once  they  's  a  man  name' " 

"William  Tell  is  n't  in  the  Bible,"  de- 
clared Lina. 

"Yes,  he  is  too,"  contended  the  little  boy, 
"Miss  Cecilia  'splained  it  to  me.     You  all 


66]  Miss  cMinertta.  and 

time  setting  yourself  up  to  know  more  'n 
me  and  Miss  Cecilia.  One  time  they  's  a 
man  name'  William  Tell  and  he  had  a  little 
boy  what's  the  cutest  kid  they  is  and  the 
Devil  come  'long  and  temp'  him.  Then  the 
Lord  say,  'William  Tell,  you  and  Adam  and 
Eve  can  taste  everything  they  is  in  the  gar- 
den 'cepting  this  one  apple  tree ;  you  can  get 
all  the  pears  and  bunnanas  and  peaches  and 
grapes  and  oranges  and  plums  and  persim- 
mons and  scalybarks  and  fig  leaves  and  'bout 
a  million  other  kinds  of  fruit  if  you  want 
to,  but  don't  you  tech  a  single  apple.'  And 
the  Devil  temp'  him  and  say  he  going  to 
put  his  cap  on  a  pole  and  everybody  got 
to  bow  down  to  it  for  a  idol  and  if  William 
Tell  don't  bow  down  to  it  he  got  to  shoot 
a  apple  for  good  or  evil  off  'm  his  little  boy's 
head.  That 's  all  the  little  boy  William  Tell 
and  Adam  and  Eve  got,  but  he  ain't  going 
to  fall  down  and  worship  no  gravy  image 
on  top  a  pole,  so  he  put  a  tomahawk  in  his 
bosom  and  he  tooken  his  bow  and  arruh  and 
shot  the  apple  plumb  th'oo  the  middle  and 
never  swinge  a  hair  of  his  head.  And  Eve 
nibble  off  the  apple  and  give  Adam  the  core, 
and  Lina  all  time  'sputing  'bout  Adam  and 


WitUam  Green  Hill  [67 

Eve  and  William  Tell  ain't  in  the  Bible. 
They  're  our  first  parents." 

"Now,  Billy,  you  tell  a  tale  and  then  it 
will  be  my  time,"  said  Lina  with  a  saving- 
the-best-for-the-last  air. 

"Once  they  was  a  oT  witch,"  said  Billy, 
"what  got  outer  her  skin  ev'y  night  an'  lef ' 
it  on  the  he'rth  an'  turnt  herself  to  a  great, 
big,  black  cat  an'  go  up  the  chim'ly  an'  go 
roun'  an'  ride  folks  fer  horses,  an*  set  on 
ev'ybody's  chis'  an*  suck  they  breath  an* 
kill  'em  an'  then  come  back  to  bed.  An* 
can't  nobody  ketch  her  tell  one  night  her 
husban'  watch  her  an'  he  see  her  jump  outer 
her  skin  an'  drop  it  on  the  he'rth  an'  turn 
to  a  'normous  black  cat  an'  go  up  the  chim- 
'ly. An'  he  got  outer  the  bed  an'  put  some 
salt  an'  pepper  an'  vinegar  on  the  skin  an' 
she  come  back  an'  turnt  to  a  'oman  an'  try  to 
git  back  in  her  skin  an'  she  can't  'cause  the 
salt  an'  pepper  an'  vinegar  mos'  burn  her  up, 
an'  she  keep  on  a-tryin'  an'  she  can't  never 
snuggle  inter  her  skin  'cause  it  keep  on  a 
burnin'  worser  'n  ever,  an'  there  she  is  a 
'oman  'thout  no  skin  on.  So  she  try  to  turn 
back  to  a  cat  an'  she  can't  'cause  it's  pas' 
twelve  erclock,  an'  she  jest  swivvle  an'  swiv- 


68]  Miss  Minerva  and 

vie  tell  fine'ly  she  jest  swfvvle  all  up.  An' 
that  was  the  las'  of  the  ole  witch  an*  her 
husban'  live  happy  ever  after.     Amen." 

"Once  upon  a  time,"  said  Lina,  "there  was 
a  beautiful  maiden  and  she  was  in  love,  but 
her  wicked  old  parent  wants  her  to  marry  a 
rich  old  man  threescore  and  ten  years  old, 
which  is  'most  all  the  old  you  can  get  unless 
you  are  going  to  die ;  and  the  lovely  princess 
said,  'No,  father,  you  may  cut  me  in  the 
twain  but  I  will  never  marry  any  but  my 
true  love.'  So  the  wicked  parent  shut  up 
the  lovely  maiden  in  a  high  tower  many 
miles  from  the  ground,  and  made  her  live  on 
turnips  and  she  had  nothing  else  to  eat;  so 
one  day  when  she  was  crying  a  little  fairy 
flew  in  at  the  window  and  asked,  'Why  do 
you  weep,  fair  one?'  And  she  said,  'A 
wicked  parent  hath  shut  me  up  and  I  can't 
ever  see  my  lover  any  more.'  So  the  fairy 
touched  her  head  with  her  wand  and  told 
her  to  hang  her  hair  out  of  the  window,  and 
she  did  and  it  reached  the  ground,  and  her 
lover,  holding  a  rope  ladder  in  one  hand  and 
playing  the  guitar  and  singing  with  the 
other,  climbed  up  by  her  hair  and  took  her 
down  on  the  ladder  and  his  big  black  horse 
was  standing  near,  all  booted  and  spurred, 


William  Green  Hill  [69 

and  they  rode  away  and  lived  happy  ever 
after." 

"How  he  gom'  to  clam'  up,  Lina,"  asked 
Billy,  "wkh  a  rope  ladder  in  one  hand  and 
his  guitar  in  the  other?" 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  dignified  answer. 
"That  is  the  way  it  is  told  in  my  fairy-tale 
book." 


70] 


Miss  Minerva  and 


CHAPTER  IX 


CHANGING  THE  ETHIOPIAN 


"Yes, 
sponse. 


ILLY  and  Jimmy  were  sit-. 
ting  in  the  swing. 

"What  makes  your  hair 
curl  just  like  a  girl's?"  asked 
the  latter.  "It's  'bout  the 
curliest  hair  they  is." 
it  do,"  was  Billy's  mournful  re- 
"It  done  worry  me  'mos'  to  death. 
Ever  sence  me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln 's 
born  we  done  try  ev'ything  fer  to  get  the 
curl  out.  They  was  a  Yankee  man  came 
'long  las'  fall  a-sellin'  some  stuff  in  a  bottle 
what  he  call  'No-To-Kink'  what  he  say 
would  take  the  kink  outer  any  nigger's  head. 
An'  Aunt  Cindy  bought  a  bottle  fer  to  take 
the  kink  outer  her  hair  an'  me  an'  Wilkes 
Booth  Lincoln  put  some  on  us  heads  an'  it 
jes'  make  mine  curlier  'n  what  it  was  already. 
I 's  'shame'  to  go  roun'  folks  with  my  cap 
off,  a-lookin'  like  a  frizzly  chicken.  Miss 
Cecilia  say  she  like  it  though,  an'  we 's  en- 


William  Green  Hill  [71 

gaged.  We  's  goin'  to  git  married  soon  's 
I  puts  on  long  pants." 

"How  long  you  been  here,  Billy?"  asked 
the  other  boy. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  perxactly,  but  I  been 
to  Sunday-School  four  times.  I  got  engaged 
to  Miss  Cecilia  that  very  firs'  Sunday,  but 
she  did  n'  know  it  tell  I  went  over  to  her 
house  the  nex'  day  an'  tol'  her  'bout  it.  She 
say  she  think  my  hair  is  so  pretty." 

"Pretty  nothin',"  sneered  his  rival.  "She 
jus'  stuffin'  you  fuller  'n  a  tick  with  hot  air. 
It  just  makes  you  look  like  a  girl.  There  's  a 
young  lady  come  to  spend  a  week  with  my 
mama  not  long  ago  and  she  put  somepin'  on 
her  head  to  make  it  right  yeller.  She  left 
the  bottle  to  our  house  and  I  know  where  *t 
is.  Maybe  if  you'd  put  some  o'  that  on 
your  head  't  would  take  the  curl  out." 

"  'T  ain't  nothin'  a-goin'  to  do  it  no  good," 
gloomily  replied  Billy.  "  'T  would  jest  make 
it  yeller  'n  what  't  is  now.  Won't  I  be  a 
pretty  sight  when  I  puts  on  long  pants  with 
these  here  yaller  curls  stuck  on  topper  my 
head?  I  'd  'nuther  sight  ruther  be  baT- 
headed." 

"Bennie  Dick  's  got  'bout  the  kinkiest 
head  they  is." 


72]  Miss  Minetba  and 

Bennie  Dick  was  the  two-year-old  baby 
of  Mrs.  Garner's  cook,  Sarah  Jane. 

"It  sho'  is,"  replied  Billy.  Would  n't  he 
look  funny  if  he  had  yaller  hair,  'cause  his 
face  is  so  black?" 

"I  know  where  the  bottle  is,"  cried  Jimmy, 
snatching  eagerly  at  the  suggestion.  "Let 's 
go  get  it  and  put  some  on  Bennie  Dick's 
head  and  see  if  it  '11  turn  it  yeller." 

"Aunt  Minerva  don'  want  me  to  go  over 
to  yo'  house,"  objected  Billy. 

"You  all  time  talking  'bout  Miss  Minerva 
won't  let  you  go  nowheres ;  she  sure  is  im- 
perdunt  to  you.  You  'bout  the  'fraidest  boy 
they  is.  .  .  .  Come  on,  Billy,"  pleaded 
Jimmy. 

The  little  boy  hesitated. 

"I  don't  want  to  git  Aunt  Minerva's  dan- 
der up  any  more  'n  I  jest  natchelly  boun'  to," 
he  said,  following  Jimmy  reluctantly  to  the 
fence ;  "but  I  '11  jes'  take  a  look  at  that  bottle 
an'  see  ef  it  looks  anything  't  all  like  *No- 
To-Kink'." 

Giggling  mightily,  they  jumped  the  divid- 
ing fence  and  slipped  with  stealthy  tread 
around  the  house  to  Sarah  Jane's  cabin  in 
the  back-yard. 

Bennie  Dick  was  sitting  on  the  floor  be- 


WilHam  Green  Hill  [73 

fore  the  open  door,  the  entrance  of  which 
was  securely  barricaded  to  keep  him  inside. 
Sarah  Jane  was  in  the  kitchen  cooking  sup- 
per; they  could  hear  her  happy  voice  raised 
in  religious  melody ;  Mrs.  Garner  had  not  yet 
returned  from  a  card  party;  the  coast  was 
clear,  and  the  time  propitious. 

Jimmy  tiptoed  to  the  house  and  soon 
returned  with  a  big  bottle  of  a  powerful 
"blondine"  in  one  hand  and  a  stick  of  candy 
in  the  other. 

"Bennie  Dick,"  he  said,  "here  's  a  nice 
stick  of  candy  for  you  if  you  '11  let  us  wash 
your  head." 

The  negro  baby's  thick,  red  lips  curved  in 
a  grin  of  delight,  his  shiny  ebony  face 
beamed  happily,  his  round  black  eyes  spark- 
led as  he  held  out  his  fat,  rusty  little  hands. 
He  sucked  greedily  at  the  candy  as  the  two 
mischievous  little  boys  uncorked  the  bottle 
and  poured  a  generous  supply  of  the  liquid 
on  his  head.  They  rubbed  it  in  well,  grin- 
ning with  delight.  They  made  a  second  and 
a  third  application  before  the  bottle  was 
exhausted;  then  they  stood  off  to  view  the 
result  of  their  efforts.  The  effect  was  ludi- 
crous. The  combination  of  coal  black  skin 
and  red  gold  hair  presented  by  the  little 


74]  cMiss  cMineroa.  and 

negro  exceeded  the  wildest  expectations  of 
Jimmy  and  Billy.  They  shrieked  with 
laughter  and  rolled  over  and  over  on  the 
floor  in  their  unbounded  delight. 

"Hush!"  warned  Jimmy  suddenly,  "I  be- 
lieve Sarah  Jane  's  coming  out  here  to  see 
'bout  Benny  Dick.  Let  's  get  behind  the 
door  and  see  what  she  's  going  to  do." 

"  'Hit  were  good  fer  Paul  an'  Silas, 
Hit  were  good  fer  Paul  an'  Silas, 
Hit  were  good  fer  Paul  an'  Silas, 
An'  hit  's  good  ernough  fer  me/  " 

floated  Sarah  Jane's  song  nearer  and  nearer. 

"  'Hit  's  de  ole  time  erligiOn, 
Hit 's  de  ole  time' " 

She  caught  sight  of  her  baby  with  his 
glistening  black  face  and  golden  hair.  She 
threw  up  her  hands,  closed  her  eyes,  and 
uttered  a  terrified  shriek.  Presently  she 
slowly  opened  her  eyes  and  took  a  second 
peep  at  her  curious-looking  offspring.  Sarah 
Jane  screamed  aloud: 

"Hit 's  de  handiwork  er  de  great  Jehos- 
haphat!  Hit's  de  Marster's  sign.  Who 
turnt  yo'  hair,  Benny  Dick?"  she  asked  of 


WiUiam  Green  Hill  [75 

the  sticky  little  pickaninny  sitting  happily 
on  the  floor.    "Is  a  angel  been  here?" 

Benny  Dick  nodded  his  head  with  a  de- 
lighted grin  of  comprehension. 

"Hit's  de  doing  er  de  Lord,"  cried  his 
mother.  "He  gwine  turn  my  chile  white  an* 
he  done  begunt  on  his  head !" 

There  was  an  ecstatic  giggle  from  behind 
the  door. 

Sarah  Jane  rushed  inside  as  fast  as  her 
mammoth  proportions  would  admit  and 
caught  a  culprit  in  each  huge  black  paw. 

"What  yer  up  ter  now,  Jimmy  Garner?" 
she  asked.    "What  yer  been  er-doing?" 

Sudden  suspicion  entered  her  mind  as  she 
caught  sight  of  the  empty  bottle  lying  on  a 
chair.  "You  been  er-puttin'  suthin'  on  my 
chile's  head !  I  knows  yer,  I 's  er-gwine  ter 
make  yo'  mammy  gi'  ye  de  worses'  whip- 
pin'  yer  eber  got  an'  I  's  gwine  ter 
take  dis  here  William  right  ober  ter  Miss 
Minerva.  Ain't  y'  all  'shame'  er  yerselves? 
Er  tamperin'  wid  de  ha'r  what  de  good  Lord 
put  on  er  colored  pusson's  head  an'  er-tryin' 
fer  ter  scarify  my  feelin's  like  yer  done.  An' 
yer  hear  me,  I 's  gwine  see  dat  somebody 
got  ter  scarify  yer  hides." 

"If  that  ain't  just  like  you,  Billy,"  said 


76]  Miss  Minerva,  and 

Jimmy,  "y°u  all  time  got  to  perpose  to  make 
nigger  heads  yeller  and  you  all  time  getting 
little  boys  in  trouble.  You  'bout  the  smart 
Alexist  jack-rabbit  they  is." 

"You  perposed  this  here  hair  business 
yo'self,  Jimmy,"  retorted  his  fellow-con- 
spirator. "You  's  always  blamin'  yo'  mean- 
ness on  somebody  else  ever  sence  you 's 
born." 

"Hit  don't  matter  who  perposed  hit,"  said 
Sarah  Jane  firmly ;  "meanness  has  been  did, 
an'  y'  all  gotter  be  structified  on  de  place 
pervided  by  natur  fer  ter  lem  my  chile 
erlone." 


William  Green  Hill 


[77 


CHAPTER     X 


LO!  THE  POOR  INDIANS 


ILLY  had  just  decided  to 
run  down  to  the  livery  stable 
to  pay  Sam  Lamb  a  visit 
when  the  gate  opened,  and 
Lina  and  Frances,  their  be- 
loved dolls  in  their  arms, 
came  skipping  in. 

Jimmy,  who  had  had  a  difference  with 
Billy  and  was  in  the  sulks  on  his  own  side  of 
the  fence,  immediately  crawled  over  and 
joined  the  others  in  the  swing.  He  was 
lonesome  and  the  prospect  of  companion- 
ship was  too  alluring  for  him  to  nurse  his 
anger  longer. 

"Aunt  Minerva  's  gone  to  the  Aid  So- 
ciety," remarked  the  host.  "Don't  y'  all 
wish  it  met  ev'y  day  'stid  'er  jes'  meetin' 
ev'y  Monday?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  agreed  Frances,  "you  can 
have  so  much  fun  when  our  mamas  go  to 
the   Aid.     My  mama   's   gone  too,   so   she 


78]  Miss  Minerva  and 

left  me  with  Brother  and  he  's  writing  a 
love  letter  to  Ruth  Shelton,  so  I  slipped 
off." 

"Mother  has  gone  to  the  Aid,  too,"  said 
Lina. 

"My  mama  too,"  chimed  in  Jimmy,  "she 
goes  to  the  Aid  every  Monday  and  to  card 
parties  nearly  all  the  time.  She  telled  Sarah 
Jane  to  'tend  to  me  and  Sarah  Jane  's  asleep. 
I  hear  her  snoring.  Ain't  we  glad  there 
ain't  no  grown  folks  to  meddle?  Can't  we 
have  fun?" 

"What '11  we  play?"  asked  Frances,  who 
had  deliberately  stepped  in  a  mud  puddle 
on  the  way,  and  splashed  mud  all  over  her- 
self, "let  's  make  mud  pies." 

"Naw,  we  ain't  a-going  to  make  no  mud 
pies,"  objected  Jimmy.  "We  can  make  mud 
pies  all  time  when  grown  folks  V  looking  at 
you." 

"Le's  's  play  sumpin'  what  we  ain't  never 
play,  sence  we  's  born,"  put  in  Billy. 

"I  hope  grandmother  won't  miss  me," 
said  Lina,  "she  's  reading  a  very  interesting 
book." 

"Let  's  play  Injun!"  yelled  Jimmy;  "we 
ain't  never  play'  Injun." 


William  Green  Hill  [79 

This  suggestion  was  received  with  howls 
of  delight. 

"My  mama  's  got  a  box  of  red  stuff  that 
she  puts  on  her  face  when  she  goes  to  the 
card  parties.  She  never  puts  none  on  when 
she  just  goes  to  the  Aid.  I  can  run  home 
and  get  the  box  to  make  us  red  li£e  Injuns," 
said  Frances. 

"My  mother  has  a  box  of  paint,  too." 

"I  ain't  never  see  Aunt  Minerva  put  no 
red  stuff  on  her  face,"  remarked  Billy,  dis- 
appointedly. 

"Miss  Minerva,  she  don't  never  let  the 
Major  come  to  see  her,  nor  go  to  no  card 
parties  is  the  reason,"  explained  the  younger 
boy,  "she  just  goes  to  the  Aid  where  they 
ain't  no  men,  and  you  don't  hafter  put  no 
red  on  your  face  at  the  Aid.  We  '11  let  you 
have  some  of  our  paint,  Billy.  My  mama  's 
got  'bout  a  million  diff 'ent  kinds." 

"We  got  to  have  pipes,"  was  Frances's 
next  suggestion. 

"My  papa  's  got  'bout  a  million  pipes," 
boasted  Jimmy,  "but  he  got  'em  all  to  the 
office,  I  spec'." 

"Father  has  a  meerschaum." 

"Aunt  Minerva  ain't  got  no  pipe." 

"Miss    Minerva  's    'bout    the    curiousest 


80]  Miss  Minerva  and 

woman  they  is,"  said  Jimmy ;  "she  ain't  got 
nothing  a  tall ;  she  ain't  got  no  paint  and  she 
ain't  got  no  pipe." 

"Ladies  don't  use  pipes,  and  we  can  do 
without  them  anyway,"  said  Lina,  "but  we 
must  have  feathers;  all  Indians  wear  feath- 
ers." 

"I  '11  get  my  mama's  duster,"  said  Jimmy. 

"Me,  too,"  chimed  in  Frances. 

Here  Billy  with  flying  colors  came  to  the 
fore  and  redeemed  Miss  Minerva's  waning 
reputation. 

"Aunt  Minerva 's  got  a  great,  big  buncher 
tu'key  feathers  an'  I  can  git  'em  right  now," 
and  the  little  boy  flew  into  the  house  and 
was  back  in  a  few  seconds. 

"We  must  have  blankets,  of  course,"  said 
Lina,  with  the  air  of  one  whose  word  is 
law;  "mother  has  a  genuine  Navajo." 

"I  got  a  little  bow'narruh  what  Santa 
Claus  bringed  me,"  put  in  Jimmy. 

"We  can  use  hatchets  for  tomahawks," 
continued  the  little  girl.  "Come  on,  Fran- 
ces; let  us  go  home  and  get  our  things  and 
come  back  here  to  dress  up.  Run,  Jimmy, 
get  your  things !  You,  too,  Billy !"  she  com- 
manded. 

The    children   ran   breathlessly   to   their 


William  Green  Hill  [81 

homes  nearby  and  collected  the  different  ar- 
ticles necessary  to  transform  them  into  pre- 
sentable Indians. 

They  soon  returned,  Jimmy  dumping  his 
load  over  the  fence  and  tumbling  after ;  and 
the  happy  quartette  sat  down  on  the  grass 
in  Miss  Minerva's  yard.  First  the  paint 
boxes  were  opened  and  generously  shared 
with  Billy,  as  with  their  handkerchiefs  they 
spread  thick  layers  of  rouge  over  their 
charming,  bright,  mischievous  little  faces. 

The  feather  decoration  was  next  in  order. 

"How  we  goin'  to  make  these  feathers 
stick?"  asked  Billy. 

They  were  in  a  dilemma  till  the  resource- 
ful Jimmy  came  to  the  rescue. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  cried,  "I  '11  be  back 
'fore  you  can  say  *Jack  Robinson'." 

He  rolled  over  the  fence  and  was  back  in 
a  few  minutes,  gleefully  holding  up  a  bottle. 

"This  muc'lage  '11  make  'em  stick,"  he 
panted,  almost  out  of  breath. 

Lina  assumed  charge  of  the  head-dresses. 
She  took  Billy  first,  rubbed  the  mucilage 
well  into  his  sunny  curls,  and  filled  his 
head  full  of  his  aunt's  turkey  feathers,  leav- 
ing them  to  stick  out  awkwardly  in  all  direc- 
tions and  at  all  angles.     Jimmy  and  Frances, 


82] 


Miss  Minerva,  and 


after  robbing  their  mothers'  dusters,  were 
similarly  decorated,  and  last,  Lina,  herself, 
was  tastefully  arrayed  by  the  combined 
efforts  of  the  other  three. 

At  last  all  was  in  readiness. 

Billy,    regardless    of    consequences,    had 


^ '/*\Ai  n>»*Aui_ 


pinned  his  aunt's  newest  grey  blanket 
around  him  and  was  viewing,  with  satis- 
fied admiration,  its  long  length  trailing  on 
the  grass  behind  him ;  Lina  had  her  mother's 
treasured  Navajo  blanket  draped  around  her 


William  Green  Hill  [83 

graceful  little  figure;  Frances,  after  pulling 
the  covers  off  of  several  beds  and  finding 
nothing  to  suit  her  fanciful  taste,  had 
snatched  a  gorgeous  silk  afghan  from  the 
leather  couch  in  the  library.  It  was  an  ex- 
pensive affair  of  intricate  pattern,  delicate 
stitches,  and  beautiful  embroidery  with  a 
purple  velvet  border  and  a  yellow  satin  lin- 
ing. She  had  dragged  one  corner  of  it 
through  the  mud  puddle  and  torn  a  big  rent 
in  another  place. 

Jimmy  was  glorious  in  a  bright  red  blan- 
ket, carrying  his  little  bow  and  arrow. 

"I  'm  going  to  be  the  Injun  chief,"  he 
boasted. 

"I'm  going  to  be  a  Injun  chief,  too,"  par- 
roted Frances. 

"Chief,  nothing!"  he  sneered,  "you  all 
time  trying  to  be  a  Injun  chief.  You  'bout 
the  pompousest  little  girl  they  is.  You 
can't  be  a  chief  nohow;  you  got  to  be  a 
squash,  Injun  ladies  V  name'  squashes;  me 
an'  Billy  's  the  chiefs.  I  'm  name'  old  Set- 
ting Bull,  hi'self." 

"You  can't  be  named  'Bull,'  Jimmy,"  re- 
proved Lina,  "it  is  n't  genteel  to  say  'bull' 
before  people." 

"Yes,  I  am  too,"  he  contended.     "Setting 


84]  Miss  Minerva  and 

Bull  's  the  biggest  chief  they  is  and  I  'm 
going  to  be  name*  him." 

"Well,  I  am  not  going  to  play  then,"  said 
Lina  primly,  "my  mother  wants  me  to  be 
genteel,  and  'bull'  is  not  genteel." 

"I  tell  you  what,  Jimmy,"  proposed  Fran- 
ces, "you  be  name'  'Setting  Cow.'  'Cow'  is 
genteel  'cause  folks  milk  'em." 

"Naw,  I  ain't  going  to  be  name'  no  cow, 
neither,"  retorted  the  little  Indian,  "you  all 
time  trying  to  'suade  somebody  to  be  name' 
'Setting  Cow'." 

"He  can't  be  name'  a  cow," — Billy  now 
entered  into  the  discussion  — ■"  'cause  he  ain't 
no  girl.  Why  don'  you  be  name'  'Settin' 
Steer'?  Is  'steer'  genteel,  Lina?"  he  anx- 
iously inquired. 

"Yes,  he  can  be  named  'Sitting  Steer'," 
she  granted.  Jimmy  agreeing  to  the  com- 
promise, peace  was  once  more  restored. 

"Frances  and  Lina  got  to  be  the  squashes 
"  he  began. 

"It  is  n't  'squashes,'  it  is  'squaws,' "  cor- 
rected Lina. 

"Yes,  't  is  squashes  too,"  persisted  Jimmy, 
"  'cause  it  's  in  the  Bible  and  Miss  Cecilia 
'splained  it  to  me  and  she's  'bout  the  high- 
steppingest  'splainer  they  is.     Me  and  Billy 


William  Green  Hill  [85 

is  the  chiefs,"  he  shouted,  capering  around, 
"and  you  and  Frances  is  the  squashes  and 
got  to  have  papooses  strop'  to  your  back." 

"Bennie  Dick  can  be  a  papoose,"  sug- 
gested Billy. 

"I  'm  not  going  to  be  a  Injun  squash  if  I 
got  to  have  a  nigger  papoose  strapped  to  my 
back!"  cried  an  indignant  Frances.  "You 
can  strap  him  to  your  own  back,  Billy." 

"But  I  ain't  no  squash,"  objected  that 
little  Indian. 

"We  can  have  our  dolls  for  papooses," 
said  Lina,  going  to  the  swing  where  the  dolls 
had  been  left.  Billy  pulled  a  piece  of  string 
from  his  pocket  and  the  babies  were  safely 
strapped  to  their  mothers'  backs.  With 
stately  tread,  headed  by  Sitting  Steer,  the 
children  marched  back  and  forth  across  the 
lawn  in  Indian  file. 

So  absorbed  were  they  in  playing  Indian 
that  they  forgot  the  flight  of  time  until  their 
chief  suddenly  stopped,  all  his  brave  valor 
gone  as  he  pointed  with  trembling  finger  up 
the  street. 

That  part  of  the  Ladies'  Aid  Society  which 
lived  in  West  Covington  was  bearing  down 
upon  them. 

"Yonder  's  our  mamas  and  Miss  Minerva," 


86]  Miss  Minerva  and 

he  whispered.  "Now  look  what  a  mess 
Billy's  done  got  us  in;  he  all  time  got  to 
perpose  someping  to  get  chillens  in  trouble 
and  he  all  time  got  to  let  grown  folks  ketch 
em. 

"Are  n't  you  ashamed  to  tell  such  a  story, 
Jimmy  Garner  ?"  cried  Frances.  "Billy  did 
n't  propose  any  such  thing.  Come  on,  let 's 
run,"  she  suggested. 

"  'T  ain't  no  use  to  run,"  advised  Jimmy. 
"They  're  too  close  and  done  already  see  us. 
We  boun'  to  get  what 's  coming  to  us  any- 
way, so  you  might  jus'  as  well  make  'em 
think  you  ain't  'fraid  of  'em.  Grown  folks 
got  to  all  time  think  little  boys  and  girls  V 
skeered  of  'em,  anyhow." 

"Aunt  Minerva  '11  sho'  put  me  to  bed  this 
time,"  said  Billy.  "Look  like  ev'y  day  I 
gotter  go  to  bed." 

"Mother  will  make  me  study  the  cate- 
chism all  day  to-morrow,"  said  Lina  dis- 
mally. 

"Mama  '11  lock  me  up  in  the  little  closet 
under  the  stairway,"  said  Frances. 

"My  mama  '11  gimme  'bout  a  million  licks 
and  try  to  take  all  the  hide  off  o'  me,"  said 
Jimmy;  "but  we  done  had  a  heap  of  fun." 

It  was  some  hours  later.     Billy's  aunt  had 


William  Green  Hill  [87 

i 

ruthlessly  clipped  the  turkey  feathers  from 
his  head,  taking  the  hair  off  in  great  patches. 
She  had  then  boiled  his  scalp,  so  the  little 
boy  thought,  in  her  efforts  to  remove  the 
mucilage.  Now,  shorn  of  his  locks  and  of 
some  of  his  courage,  the  child  was  sitting 
quietly  by  her  side,  listening  to  a  superior 
moral  lecture  and  indulging  in  a  compulsory 
heart-to-heart  talk  with  his  relative. 

"I  don't  see  that  it  does  you  any  good, 
William,  to  put  you  to  bed." 

"I  don'  see  as  it  do  neither,"  agreed  Billy. 

"I  can  not  whip  you ;  I  am  constitutionally 
opposed  to  corporal  punishment  for  chil- 
dren." 

"I  's  'posed  to  it  too,"  he  assented. 

"I  believe  I  will  hire  a  servant,  so  that  I 
may  devote  my  entire  time  to  your  train- 
ing. 

This  prospect  for  the  future  did  not  ap- 
peal to  her  nephew.  On  the  contrary  it 
filled  him  with  alarm. 

"A  husban'  'd  be  another  sight  handier," 
he  declared  with  energy;  "he  'd  be  a  heap 
mo'  'count  to  you  'n  a  cook,  Aunt  Minerva. 
There  's  that  Major " 

"You  will  never  make  a  preacher  of  your- 
self, William,  unless  you  improve." 


88]  Miss  cMtnerva  and 

The  child  looked  up  at  her  in  astonish- 
ment ;  this  was  the  first  he  knew  of  his  being 
destined  for  the  ministry. 

"A  preacher  what  'zorts  an*  calls  up 
mourners?"  he  said,  —  "not  on  yo'  tin-type. 
Me  an*  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  — " 

"How  many  times  have  I  expressed  the 
wish  not  to  have  you  bring  that  negro's 
name  into  the  conversation?"  she  impa- 
tiently interrupted. 

"I  don*  perzactly  know,  'm,"  he  answered 
good  humoredly,  "  'bout  fifty  hunerd,  I 
reckon.  Anyways,  Aunt  Minerva,  I  ain't 
goin'  to  be  no  preacher.  When  I  puts  on 
long  pants  I  's  goin'  to  be  a  Confedrit 
Vet'run  an'  kill  'bout  fifty  hunderd  Yankees 
an'  Injuns,  like  my  Major  man." 


William  Green  Hill  [89 


CHAPTER  XI 

NOW  RIDDLE  ME  THIS 

HE  children  were  sitting  in 
the  swing.     Florence  Ham- 
mer,    a     little     girl     whose 
mother    was   spending    the 
day  at  Miss  Minerva's,  was 
with  them. 
"Don't  you-all  wish  Santa  Claus  had  his 
birthday   right   now   'stead   'o   waiting   till 
Christmas  to  hang  up  our  stockings?"  asked 
Frances. 

"Christmas  is  n't  Santa  Claus'  birthday," 
corrected  Lina.  "God  was  born  on  Christ- 
mas and  that  's  the  reason  we  hang  up  our 
stockings." 

"Yes;  it  is  old  Santa's  birthday,  too," 
argued  Jimmy,  "  'cause  it  's  in  the  Bible 
and  Miss  Cecilia  'splained  it  to  me  and  she 
'bout  the  dandiest  'splainer  they  is." 

"Which  you-all  like  the  best:  God  or 
Doctor  Sanford  or  Santa  Claus?"  asked 
Florence. 


90]  Miss  Minerva  and 

"I  like  God  'nother  sight  better  'n  I  do 
anybody,"  declared  Jimmy,  "  'cause  He  so 
forgivingsome.  He  's  'bout  the  forgivingest 
person  they  is.  Santa  Claus  can't  let  you 
go  to  Heaven  nor  Doctor  Sanford  neither, 
nor  our  papas  and  mamas  nor  Miss  Minerva. 
Now  would  n't  we  be  in  a  pretty  fix  if  we 
had  to  'pend  on  Doctor  Sanford  or  Santa 
Claus  to  forgive  you  every  time  you  run 
off  or  fall  down  and  bust  your  breeches. 
Naw;  gimme  God  ev'y  time." 

"I  like  Santa  Claus  the  best,"  declared 
Frances,  "  'cause  he  is  n't  f 'rever  getting 
in  your  way,  and  has  n't  any  castor  oil  like 
Doctor  Sanford,  and  you  don't  f'rever  have 
to  be  telling  him  you  're  sorry  you  did  what 
you  did,  and  he  has  n't  all  time  got  one  eye 
on  you  either,  like  God,  and  got  to  follow 
you  'round.  And  Santa  Claus  don't  all  time 
say,  'Shet  your  eyes  and  open  your  mouth,' 
like  Doctor  Sanford,  'and  poke  out  your 
tongue.' " 

"I  like  Doctor  Sanford  the  best,"  said 
Florence,  "  'cause  he  's  my  uncle,  and  God 
and  Santa  Claus  ain't  kin  to  me." 

"And  the  Bible  say,  'Love  your  kin-folks,* 
Miss  Cecilia  'splained  — " 

"I  use  to  like  my  Uncle  Doc'  heap  bet- 


William  Green  Hill 


{91 


ter  'n  what  I  do  now,"  went  on  the  little 
girl,  heedless  of  Jimmy's  interruption,  "till 
I  went  with  daddy  to  his  office  one  day. 
And  what  you  reckon  that  man  's  got  in  his 
office?  He  'is  got  a  dead  man  'thout  no 
meat  nor  clo'es  on,  nothing  a  tall  but  just 
his  bones." 

"Was  he  a  hant?"  asked  Billy.    "I  like 
the  Major  best  —  he  's  got  meat  on." 

"Naw ;  he  did  n't  have  no  sheet  on  —  just 
bones,"  was  the  reply. 

"No   sheet  on;  no  meat  on!"   chirruped 
Billy,  glad  of  the  rhyme. 

"Was  he  a  angel,  Florence?"  questioned 
Frances. 

"Naw;  he  did  n't 
have  no  harp  and  no 
wings  neither." 

"It  must  have  been 
a  skeleton,"  explained 
Lina. 

"And  Uncle  Doc' 
just  keeps  that  poor 
man  there  and  won't 
let  him  go  to  Heaven 
where  dead  folks 
b'longs." 

"I  spec*  he  was  n't 


92]  SMiss  Minerva  and 

a  good  man  'fore  he  died  and  got  to  go  to 
the  Bad  Place,"  suggested  Frances. 

"I  '11  betcher  he  never  asked  God  to  for- 
give him  when  he  'ceived  his  papa  and 
sassed  his  mama," — this  from  Jimmy, — 
"and  Doctor  Sanford  's  just  a-keeping  old 
Satan  from  getting  him  to  toast  on  a  pitch- 
fork." 

"I  hope  they  '11  have  a  Christmas  tree 
at  Sunday-School  next  Christmas,"  said 
Frances,  harking  back,  "and  I  hope  I  '11  get 
a  heap  o*  things  like  I  did  last  Christmas. 
Poor  little  Tommy  Knott  he  *s  so  skeered 
he  was  n't  going  to  get  nothing  at  all  on  the 
tree  so  he  got  him  a  great,  big,  red  apple 
an'  he  wrote  on  a  piece  o'  paper  'From 
Tommy  Knott  to  Tommy  Knott/  and  tied  it 
to  the  apple  and  put  it  on  the  tree  for 
hi'self." 

"Let 's  ask  riddles,"  suggested  Lina. 

"All  right,"  shouted  Frances,  "I  'm  going 
to  ask  the  first." 

"Naw ;  you  ain't  neither,"  objected  Jimmy. 
"You  all  time  got  to  ask  the  first  riddle. 
I  'm  going  to  ask  the  first  one  — 
"  'Round  as  a  biscuit,  busy  as  a  bee, 

Prettiest  little  thing  you  ever  did  see?' 

'A  watch/ 


William  Green  Hill  [93 

"  'Humpty  Dumpty  set  on  a  wall, 
Humpty  Dumpty  had  a  great  fall, 
All  the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's 

men 
Can't  put  Humpty  Dumpty  back  again.' 

'A  egg.' 

"  'Round  as  a  ring,  deep  as  a  cup, 
All  the  king's  horses  can't  pull  it  up.' 

'A  well.' 
"'House  full,  yard  full,  can't  ketch '* 

"Hush,  Jimmy!"  cried  Lina,  in  disgust. 
"You  don't  know  how  to  ask  riddles.  You 
must  n't  give  the  answers,  too.  Ask  one 
riddle  at  a  time  and  let  some  one  else 
answer  it.  I  '11  ask  one  and  see  who  can 
answer  it : 
"  'As  I  was  going  through  a  field  of  wheat 

I  picked  up  something  good  to  eat, 

'T  was  neither  fish  nor  flesh  nor  bone, 

I  kept  it  till  it  ran  alone?'  " 

"A  snake!  A  snake!"  guessed  Florence. 
"That 's  a  easy  riddle." 

"Snake,  nothing!"  scoffed  Jimmy,  "you 
can't  eat  a  snake.  'Sides  Lina  would  n't  V 
picked  up  a  snake.  Is  it  a  little  baby  rabbit, 
Lina?" 

"It  was  neither  fish  nor  flesh  nor  bone," 


94]  Miss  Mineri?a  and 

she  declared;   "and  a   rabbit   is   flesh  and 
bone." 

"Then  it  's  boun'  to  be  a  apple,"  was 
Jimmy's  next  guess ;  "that  ain't  no  flesh  and 
blood  and  it  's  good  to  eat." 

"An  apple  can't  run  alone,"  she  triumph- 
antly answered.  "Give  it  up?  Well,  it  was 
an  egg  and  it  hatched  to  a  chicken.  Now, 
Florence,  you  ask  one." 

"S'pose  a  man  was  locked  up  in  a  house," 
she  asked,  "how  'd  he  get  out?" 

"Clam'  outer  a  winder,"  guessed  Billy. 

"'T  wa'n't  no  winder  to  the  house,"  she 
declared. 

"Crawled  out  th'oo  the  chim'ly,  like  Santa 
Claus,"  was  Billy's  next  guess. 

"'T  wa'n't  no  chim'ly  to  it.  Give  it  up? 
Give  it  up?"  the  little  girl  laughed  gleefully. 
"Well,  he  just  broke  out  with  measles." 

"It  is  Billy's  time,"  said  Lina,  who  seemed 
to  be  mistress  of  ceremonies. 

"Tabernicle  learnt  this  here  one  at  school ; 
see,  if  y'  all  can  guess  it:  'Tabby  had  four 
kittens  but  Stillshee  did  n't  have  none  *t  all*  " 

"I  don't  see  no  sense  a  tall  in  that," 
argued  Jimmy,  "  'thout  some  bad  little  boys 
drownded  'em." 

"Tabby  was  a  cat,"  exDlained  the  othe* 


William  Green  Hill  [95 

boy,  "and  she  had  four  kittens ;  and  Stillshee 
was  a  little  girl,  and  she  did  n't  have  no 
kittens  't  all." 

"What  's  this,"  asked  Jimmy:  "  'A  man 
rode  'cross  a  bridge  and  Fido  walked?'  Had 
a  little  dog  name'  Fido." 

"You  did  n't  ask  that  right,  Jimmy,"  said 
Lina,  "you  always  get  things  wrong.  The 
riddle  is,  'A  man  rode  across  a  bridge  and 
Yet  he  walked,'  and  the  answer  is,  'He  had 
a  little  dog  named  Yet  who  walked  across 
the  bridge.' " 

"Well,  I  'd  'nother  sight  ruther  have  a 
little  dog  name'  Fido,"  declared  Jimmy.  "A 
little  dog  name'  Yet  and  a  little  girl  name' 
Stillshee  ain't  got  no  sense  a  tall  to  it." 

"Why  should  a  hangman  wear  sus- 
penders?" asked  Lina.  "I  '11  bet  nobody  can 
answer  that." 

"To  keep  his  breeches  from  falling  off," 
triumphantly  answered  Frances. 

"No,  you  goose,  a  hangman  should  wear 
suspenders  so  that  he  'd  always  have  a 
gallows  handy." 


96]  Miss  ZMinerva.  and 

CHAPTER  XII 

IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  LORD. 

T   was   a  beautiful   Sunday 
morning. 

The  pulpit  of  the  Metho- 
dist Church  was  not  occu- 
ipied  by  its  regular  pastor, 
I  Brother  Johnson.  Instead,  a 
traveling  minister,  collecting  funds  for  a 
church  orphanage  in  Memphis,  was  the 
speaker  for  the  day.  Miss  Minerva  rarely 
missed  a  service  in  her  own  church.  She 
was  always  on  hand  at  the  Love  Feast  and 
the  Missionary  Rally  and  gave  liberally  of 
her  means  to  every  cause.  She  was  sitting 
in  her  own  pew  between  Billy  and  Jimmy, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garner  having  remained 
at  home.  Across  the  aisle  from  her  sat 
Frances  Black,  between  her  father  and 
mother;  two  pews  in  front  of  her  were  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  with  Lina  on  the  out- 
side next  the  aisle.  The  good  Major  was 
there,  too;  it  was  the  only  place  he  could 
depend  upon  for  seeing  Miss  Minerva. 


William  Green  Hill  [97 

The  preacher,  after  an  earnest  and  elo- 
quent discourse  from  the  text,  "He  will 
remember  the  fatherless,"  closed  the  big 
Bible  with  a  bang  calculated  to  wake  any 
who  might  be  sleeping.  He  came  down 
from  the  pulpit  and  stood  close  to  his 
hearers  as  he  made  his  last  pathetic  appeal. 

"My  own  heart,"  said  he,  "goes  out  to 
every  orphan  child,  for  in  the  yellow  fever 
epidemic  of  '78,  when  but  two  years  old,  I 
lost  both  father  and  mother.  If  there  are 
any  little  orphan  children  here  to-day,  I 
should  be  glad  if  they  would  come  up  to 
the  front  and  shake  hands  with  me." 

Now  Miss  Minerva  always  faithfully 
responded  to  every  proposal  made  by  a 
preacher;  it  was  a  part  of  her  religious 
conviction.  At  revivals  she  was  ever  a 
shining,  if  solemn  and  austere,  light.  When 
a  minister  called  for  all  those  who  wanted 
to  go  to  Heaven  to  rise,  she  was  always  the 
first  one  on  her  feet.  If  he  asked  to  see  the 
raised  hands  of  those  who  were  members 
of  the  church  at  the  tender  age  of  ten  years, 
Miss  Minerva's  thin,  long  arm  gave  a 
prompt  response.  Once  when  a  celebrated 
evangelist  was  holding  a  big  protracted 
meeting  under  canvas  in  the  town  and  had 


98]  Miss  cMinerva  and 

asked  all  those  who  had  read  the  book  of 
Hezekiah  in  the  Bible  to  stand  up,  Miss 
Minerva  on  one  side  of  the  big  tent  and  her 
devoted  lover  on  the  other  side  were  among 
the  few  who  had  risen  to  their  feet.  She 
had  read  the  good  book  from  cover  to  cover 
from  Genesis  to  Revelation  over  and  over 
so  she  thought  she  had  read  Hezekiah  a 
score  of  times. 

So  now,  when  the  preacher  called  for 
little  orphans  to  come  forward,  she  leaned 
down  and  whispered  to  her  nephew,  "Go 
up  to  the  front,  William,  and  shake  hands 
with  the  nice  kind  preacher." 

"Wha'  fer?"  he  asked.  "I  don*  want  to 
go  up  there;  ev'ybody  here  '11  look  right  at 
me." 

"Are  there  no  little  orphans  here?"  the 
minister  was  saying.  "I  want  to  shake  the 
hand  of  any  little  child  who  has  had  the 
misfortune  to  lose  its  parents." 

"Go  on,  William,"  commanded  his  aunt. 
"Go  shake  hands  with  the  preacher." 

The  little  boy  again  demurred  but,  Miss 
Minerva  insisting,  he  obediently  slipped  by 
her  and  by  his  chum.  Walking  gracefully 
and  jauntily  up  the  aisle  to  the  spot  where 


William  Green  Ml  [99 

the  lecturer  was  standing  by  a  broad  table, 
he  held  out  his  slim,  little  hand. 

Jimmy  looked  at  these  proceedings  of 
Billy's  in  astonishment,  not  comprehending 
at  all.  He  was  rather  indignant  that  the 
older  boy  had  not  confided  in  him  and 
invited  his  participation. 

But  Jimmy  was  not  the  one  to  sit  calmly 
by  and  be  ignored  when  there  was  anything 
doing,  so  he  slid  awkwardly  from  the  bench 
before  Miss  Minerva  knew  what  he  was  up 
to.  Signaling  Frances  to  follow,  he  swag- 
gered pompously  behind  Billy  and  he,  too, 
held  out  a  short,  fat  hand  to  the  minister. 

The  speaker  smiled  benignly  down  upon 
them;  lifting  them  up  in  his  arms  he  stood 
the  little  boys  upon  the  table.  He  thought 
the  touching  sight  of  these  innocent  and 
tender  little  orphans  would  empty  the 
pockets  of  the  audience.  Billy  turned  red 
with  embarrassment  at  his  conspicuous 
position,  while  Jimmy  grinned  happily  at 
the  amused  congregation.  Horrified  Miss 
Minerva  half  rose  to  her  feet,  but  decided 
to  remain  where  she  was.  She  was  a  timid 
woman  and  did  not  know  what  course  she 
ought  to  pursue.  Besides,  she  had  just 
caught  the  Major's  smile. 


too] 


Miss  Minerva  and 


"And  how  long  have  you  been  an 
orphan?"  the  preacher  was  asking  of  Billy. 

"Ever  sence  me  an*  Wilkes  Booth  Lin- 
coln 's  born,"  sweetly  responded  the  child. 

"I  'bout  the  orphantest  boy  they  is," 
volunteered  Jimmy. 


Frances,  responding  to  the  latter's  invita- 
tion, had  crawled  over  her  father's  legs 
before  he  realized  what  was  happeningc 
She,  too,  went  sailing  down  the  aisle,  her 


William  Green  Hill  [Wt 

stiff  white  dress  standing  straight  up  in  the 
back  like  a  strutting  gobbler's  tail.  She 
grabbed  hold  of  the  man's  hand,  and  was 
promptly  lifted  to  the  table  beside  the 
other  "orphans."  Tears  stood  in  the  good 
preacher's  eyes  as  he  turned  to  the  tittering 
audience  and  said  in  a  pathetic  voice, 
"Think  of  it,  my  friends,  this  beautiful  little 
girl  has  no  mother." 

Poor  Mrs.  Black!  A  hundred  pairs  of 
eyes  sought  her  pew  and  focused  themselves 
upon  the  pretty  young  woman  sitting  there, 
red,  angry,  and  shamefaced.  Mr.  Black  was 
visibly  amused  and  could  hardly  keep  from 
laughing  aloud. 

As  Frances  passed  by  the  Hamiltons'  pew 
in  her  promenade  down  the  aisle,  Mrs. 
Hamilton  leaned  across  her  husband  and 
made  an  attempt  to  clutch  Lina;  but  she 
was  too  late;  already  that  dignified  little 
"orphan"  was  gliding  with  stately,  conscious 
tread  to  join  the  others.  This  was  too  much 
for  the  audience.  A  few  boys  laughed  out 
and  for  the  first  time,  the  preacher's  sus- 
picions were  aroused.  As  he  clasped  Lina's 
slender,  graceful  little  hand  he  asked: 

"And  you  have  no  father  or  mother,  little 
girl?" 


W2]  Miss  Minerva  and 

"Yes,  I  have,  too,"  she  angrily  retorted. 
"My  father  and  mother  are  sitting  right 
there,"  and  she  pointed  a  slim  forefinger  to 
her  crimson,  embarrassed  parents. 


William  Green  Hill  [103 


CHAPTER  XIH 

JOB  AND  POLLIE  BUMPUS 

i  NEVER  have  told  a  down- 
right  falsehood,"  said  Lina. 
"Mother  taught  me  how 
wicked  it  is  to  tell  stories. 
Did  you  ever  tell  a  fib  to 
jyour  mother,  Frances?" 
"  'T  ain't  no  use  to  try  to  'ceive  my  mama," 
was  the  reply  of  the  other  little  girl ;  "she  's 
got  such  gimlet  eyes  and  ears  she  can  tell 
with  'em  shut  if  you  're  fibbing.  I  gave  up 
hope  long  ago,  so  I  just  go  'long  and  tell 
her  the  plain  gospel  truth  when  she  asks 
me,  'cause  I  know  those  gimlet  eyes  and 
ears  of  hers  're  going  to  worm  it  out  o'  me 
somehow." 

"Grown  folks  pin  you  down  so  close 
sometimes,"  said  Jimmy,  "you  bound  to 
'varicate  a  little ;  and  I  always  tell  God  I  'm 
sorry.  I  tell  my  mama  the  truth  'most  all 
time  'cepting  when  she  asks  questions  'bout 
things  ain't  none  of  her  business  a  tall,  and 


t04]  Miss  Minerva  and 

she  all  time  want  to  know  'Who  done  it?' 
and  if  I  let  on  it  's  me,  I  know  she  '11  wear 
out  all  the  slippers  and  hair-brushes  they  is 
paddling  my  canoe,  'sides  switches,  so  I  jus* 
say  'I  do'  know,  'm' — which  all  time  ain't 
perzactly  the  truth.  You  ever  tell  Miss 
Minerva  stories,  Billy?" 

"Aunt  Cindy  always  say,  't  wa'n't  no 
harm  't  all  to  beat  'bout  the  bush  an'  try  to 
th'ow  folks  offer  the  track  'long  as  you  can, 
but  if  it  come  to  the  point  where  you  got  to 
tell  a  out-an'-out  fib,  she  say  for  me  always 
to  tell  the  truth,  an'  I  jest  nachelly  do  like 
she  say  ever  sence  I  's  born,"  replied  Billy. 

The  children  swung  awhile  in  silence. 
Presently  Jimmy  broke  the  quiet  by 
remarking : 

"Don't  you  all  feel  sorry  for  old  Miss 
Pollie  Bumpus?  She  live  all  by  herself,  and 
she  'bout  a  million  years  old,  and  Doctor 
Sanford  ain't  never  brung  her  no  chillens 
'cause  she  ain't  got  'er  no  husban'  to  be 
their  papa,  and  she  got  a  octopus  in  her 
head,  and  she  poor  as  a  post  and  deaf  as 
Job's  old  turkey-hen." 

"Job's  old  turkey-hen  was  n't  deaf,"  re- 
torted Lina  primly ;  "she  was  very,  very  poor 
and  thin." 


Wtlliam  Green  Hill  [105 

"She  was  deaf,  too,"  insisted  Jimmy, 
"  'cause  it  's  in  the  Bible.  I  know  all  'bout 
Job,"  bragged  he. 

"I  know  all  'bout  Job,  too,"  chirped 
Frances. 

"Job,  nothing !"  said  Jimmy,  with  a  sneer ; 
"you  all  time  talking  'bout  you  know  all 
'bout  Job;  you  'bout  the  womanishest  little 
girl  they  is.  Now  I  know  Job  'cause  Miss 
Cecilia  'splained  all  'bout  him  to  me.  He  's 
in  the  Bible  and  he  sold  his  birthmark  for 
a  mess  of  potatoes  and  — ■ — " 

"You  never  can  get  anything  right, 
Jimmy,"  interrupted  Lina;  "that  was  Esau 
and  it  was  not  his  birthmark,  it  was  his 
birthstone;  and  he  sold  his  birthstone  for  a 
mess  of  potash." 

"Yas,"  agreed  Frances ;  "  'he  saw  Esau 
kissing  Kate  and  Esau  had  to  sell  him  his 
birthstone  to  keep  his  mouth  shut." 

"Mother  read  me  all  about  Job,"  con- 
tinued Lina ;  "he  was  afflicted  with  boils  and 
his  wife  knit  him  a  Job's  comforter  to  wrap 
around  him,  and  he  — — " 

"And  he  sat  under  a  'tato  vine,"  put  in 
Frances  eagerly,  "what  God  grew  to  keep 
the  sun  off  o'  his  boils  and " 


t06]  Miss  Mmertta  and 

"That  was  Jonah,"  said  Lina,  "and  it 
was  n't  a  potato  vine ;  it  was " 

"No,  't  wasn't  Jonah  neither;  Jonah  is 
inside  of  a  whale's  bel " 

"Frances!" 

"Stommick,"  Frances  corrected  herself, 
"and  a  whale  swallow  him,  and  how  's  he 
going  to  sit  under  a  pumpkin  vine  when  he  's 
inside  of  a  whale?" 

"It  was  not  a  pumpkin  vine,  it " 

"And  I  'd  jus'  like  to  see  a  man  inside  of 
a  whale  a-setting  under  a  morning-glory 
vine." 

"The  whale  vomicked  him  up,"  said 
Jimmy. 

"What  sorter  thing  is  a  octopus  like  what 
y'  all  say  is  in  Miss  Pollie  Bumpus's  head?" 
asked  Billy. 

"  'T  ain't  a  octopus,  it  's  a  polypus," 
explained  Frances,  "  'cause  she  's  named 
Miss  Pollie.  It  's  a  someping  that  grows  in 
your  nose  and  has  to  be  named  what  you  's 
named.  She  's  named  Miss  Pollie  and 
she  's  got  a  polypus." 

"I  'm  mighty  glad  my  mama  ain't  got  no 
Eva-pus  in  her  head,"  was  Jimmy's  com- 
ment. "Ain't  you  glad,  Billy,  your  Aunt 
Minerva  ain't  got  no  Miss  Minerva-pus?" 


Wttliam  Green  Hill  \107 

"I  sho*  is,"  fervently  replied  Miss 
Minerva's  nephew;  "she  's  hard  'nough  to 
manage  now  like  she  is." 

"I  'm  awful  good  to  Miss  Pollie,"  said 
Frances.  "I  take  her  someping  good  to  eat 
*most  every  day.  I  took  her  two  pieces  of 
pie  this  morning;  I  ate  up  one  pi*ce  on  the 
way  and  she  gimme  the  other  piece  when  I 
got  there.  I  jus*  don't  believe  she  could  get 
'long  at  all  'thout  me  to  carry  her  the  good 
things  to  eat  that  my  mama  sends  her;  I 
takes  her  pies  all  the  time ,  she  siys  they  're 
the  best  smelling  pies  ever  she  smelt." 

"You  'bout  the  piggiest  girl  they  is,"  said 
Jimmy,  "all  time  got  to  eat  up  a  poor  old 
woman's  pies.  You'll  have  a  Frances-pus 
in  your  stomach  first  thing  you  know." 

"She's  got  a  horn  that  you  talk  th'oo," 
continued  the  little  girl,  serenely  contemp- 
tuous of  Jimmy's  adverse  criticism,  "and 
'fore  I  knew  how  you  talk  into  it,  she  says 
to  me  one  day,  'How 's  your  ma?'  and  stuck 
that  old  horn  at  me;  so  I  put  it  to  my  ear, 
too,  and  there  we  set ;  she 
got  one  end  of  the  horn 
to  her  ear  and  I  got  the 
other  end  to  my  ear;  so 
when  I  saw  this  was  n't 


108]  Miss  cMineroa.  and 

going  to  work  I  took  it  and  blew  into  it; 
you-all  'd  died  a-laughing  to  see  the  way  I 
did.  But  now  I  can  talk  th'oo  it  's  good  's 
anybody." 

"That  is  an  ear  trumpet,  Frances,"  said 
Lina,  4'it  is  not  a  horn." 

"Le's  play  'Hide  the  Switch/  "  suggested 
Billy. 

"I  'm  going  to  hide  it  first,"  cried  Frances. 

"Naw,  you  ain't,"  objected  Jimmy,  "you 
all  time  got  to  hide  the  switch  first.  I  'm 
going  to  hide  it  first  myself." 

"No,  I  'm  going  to  say  'William  Com 
Trimbleton,'  "  said  Frances,  "and  see  who  's 
going  to  hide  it  first.  Now  you-all  spraddle 
out  your  fingers." 


William  Green  Hill 


{109 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


MR.  ALGERNON  JONES 


GAIN  was  it  Monday,  with 
the  Ladies  Aid  Society  in 
session.  Jimmy  was  sitting 
on  the  grass  in  his  own 
front  yard,  in  full  view  of 
Sarah  Jane,  who  was  ironing 
clothes  in  her  cabin  with  strict  orders  to 
keep  him  at  home.  Billy  was  in  the  swing 
in  Miss  Minerva's  yard. 

"Come  on  over,"  he  invited. 
"I  can't,"  was  the  reply  across  the  fence, 
"I  'm  so  good  now  I  'bout  got  'ligion;  I 
reckon  I  *m  going  to  be  a  mish'nary  or  a 
pol'tician,  one  or  t'  other  when  I  'm  a  grown- 
up  man  'cause  I  'm  so  good;  I  ain't  got  but 
five  whippings  this  week.  I  been  good  ever 
since  I  let  you  'suade  me  to  play  Injun. 
I  'm  the  goodest  little  boy  in  this  town,  I 
'spec'.  Sometimes  I  get  scared  'bout  being 
so  good  'cause  I  hear  a  woman  say  if  you 
too  good,  you  going  to  die  or  you  ain't  got 
no  sense,  one.    You  come  on  over  here ;  you 


110\  Miss  Minerva  and 

ain't  trying  to  be  good  like  what  I'm  trying, 
and  Miss  Minerva  don't  never  do  nothing 
a  tall  to  you  'cepting  put  you  to  bed." 

"I  'd  ruther  to  git  whipped  fifty  hunderd 
times  'n  to  hafter  go  to  bed  in  the  daytime 
with  Aunt  Minerva  lookin'  at  you.  An'  her 
specs  can  see  right  th'oo  you  plumb  to  the 
bone.  Naw,  I  can't  come  over  there  'cause 
she  made  me  promise  not  to.  I  ain't  never 
go  back  on  my  word  yit." 

"I  hope  mama  won't  never  ask  me  to 
promise  her  nothing  a  tall,  'cause  I  'm 
mighty  curious  'bout  forgetting.  I  'spec' 
I  'm  the  most  forgettingest  little  boy  they 
is.  But  I  'm  so  glad  I  'm  so  good.  I  ain't 
never  going  to  be  bad  no  more;  so  you 
might  just  as  well  quit  begging  me  to  come 
over  and  swing,  you  need  n't  ask  me  no 
more,  —  't  ain't  no  use  a  tall." 

"I  ain't  a-begging  you,"  cried  Billy  con- 
temptuously, "y°u  can  set  on  yo'  mammy's 
grass  where  you  is,  an'  be  good  from  now 
tell  Jedgement  Day  an'  't  won't  make  no 
change  in  my  business." 

"I  ain't  going  to  be  'ticed  into  no  mean- 
ness, 'cause  I  'm  so  good,"  continued  the 
reformed  one,  after  a  short  silence  during 
which  he  had  seen  Sarah  Jane  turn  her  back 


William  Green  Hill  [lit 

to  him,  "but  I  don't  b'lieve  it  '11  be  no  harm 
jus*  to  come  over  and  set  in  the  swing  with 
you;  maybe  I  can  'fluence  you  to  be  good 
like  me  and  keep  you  from  'ticing  little  boys 
into  mischief.  I  think  I  '11  just  come  over 
and  set  a  while  and  help  you  to  be  good," 
and  he  started  to  the  fence.  Sarah  Jane 
turned  around  in  time  to  frustrate  his  plans. 

"You  git  right  back,  Jimmy,"  she  yelled, 
"you  git  erway  f'om  dat-ar  fence  an*  quit 
confabbin'  wid  dat-ar  Willyum.  Fixin'  to 
make  some  mo'  Injuns  out  o'  yo'selfs,  ain't 
yeh,  or  some  yuther  kin'  o'  skeercrows?" 

Billy  strolled  to  the  other  side  of  the  big 
yard  and  climbed  up  and  sat  on  the  tall  gate 
post.  A  stranger,  coming  from  the  opposite 
direction,  stopped  and  spoke  to  him. 

"Does  Mr.  John  Smith  live  here?"  he 
asked. 

"Naw,  sir,"  was  the  reply;  "don't  no  Mr. 
't  all  live  here;  jest  me  an'  Aunt  Minerva, 
an'  she  turns  up  her  nose  at  anything  that 
wears  pants." 

"And  where  could  I  find  your  Aunt 
Minerva?"  the  stranger's  grin  was  ingratiat- 
ing and  agreeable. 

"Why,  this  here  's  Monday,"  the  little 
boy  exclaimed.     "Of  course  she  's  at  the 


U2\  Miss  Minerva  and 

Aid;  all  the  'omans  roun,  here  goes  to  the 
Aid  on  Monday." 

"Your  aunt  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,"  went 
on  the  man,  "and  I  knew  she  was  at  the 
Aid.  I  just  wanted  to  find  out  if  you  'd  tell 
the  truth  about  her.  Some  little  boys  tell 
stories,  but  I  am  glad  to  find  out  you  are  so 
truthful.  My  name  is  Mr.  Algernon  Jones 
and  I  'm  glad  to  know  you.  Shake!  Put 
it  there,  partner,"  and  the  fascinating 
stranger  held  out  a  grimy  paw. 

Billy  smiled  down  from  his  perch  at  him 
and  thought  he  had  never  met  such  a  pleas- 
ant man.  If  he  was  such  an  old  friend  of 
his  aunt's  maybe  she  would  not  object  to 
him  because  he  wore  pants,  he  thought. 
Maybe  she  might  be  persuaded  to  take  Mr. 
Jones  for  a  husband.  Billy  almost  hoped 
that  she  would  hurry  home  from  the  Aid, 
he  wanted  to  see  the  two  together  so. 

"Is  you  much  of  a  cusser?"  he  asked  sol- 
emnly, "  'cause  if  you  is  you  '11  hafter  cut  it 
out  on  these  premises." 

Mr.  Jones  seemed  much  surprised  and 
hurt  at  the  question. 

"An  oath  never  passed  these  lips,"  replied 
the  truthful  gentleman. 

"Can  you  churn?" 


William  Green  Hill  [113 

"Churn  —  churn?"  with  a  reminiscent 
smile,  "I  can  churn  like  a  top." 

Jimmy  was  dying  of  curiosity  but  the  gate 
was  too  far  away  for  him  to  do  more  than 
catch  a  word  now  and  then.  It  was  also  out 
of  Sarah  Jane's  visual  line,  so  she  knew 
nothing  of  the  stranger's  advent. 

"And  you  're  here  all  by  yourself?"  insin- 
uated Billy's  new  friend.  "And  the  folks 
next  door,  where  are  they?" 

"Mrs.  Garner  's  at  the  Aid  an'  Mr. 
Garner  's  gone  to  Memphis.  That  is  they 
little  boy  a-settin'  in  they  yard  on  they 
grass,"  answered  the  child. 

"I  've  come  to  fix  your  Aunt  Minerva's 
water  pipe,"  said  truth-loving  Mr.  Jones. 
"Come,  show  me  the  way ;  I'm  the  plumber." 

"In  the  bath-room?"  asked  the  child.  "I 
did  n'  know  it  needed  no  fixin'." 

He  led  the  agreeable  plumber  through  the 
hall,  down  the  long  back-porch  to  the  bath- 
room, remarking: 

"I  '11  jes'  watch  you  work."  And  he 
seated  himself  in  the  only  chair. 

Here  is  where  Billy  received  one  of  the 
greatest  surprises  of  his  life.  The  fascinat- 
ing stranger  grabbed  him  with  a  rough  hand 
and  hissed : 


H4\  Miss  Minerva  and 

"Don't  you  dare  open  your  mouth  or  I  '11 
crack  your  head  open  and  scatter  your 
brains.     I  '11  eat  you  alive." 

The  fierce,  bloodshot  eyes,  which  had 
seemed  so  laughing  and  merry  before,  now 
glared  into  those  of  the  little  boy  as  the 
man  took  a  stout  cord  from  his  pocket, 
bound  Billy  to  the  chair,  and  gagged  him 
with  a  large  bath  towel.  Energetic  Mr. 
Jones  took  the  key  out  of  the  door,  shook  his 
fist  at  the  child,  went  out,  and  locked  the 
door  behind  him. 

Jimmy,  seeing  no  hope  of  eluding  Sarah 
Jane's  vigilance,  resorted  to  strategy  and 
deceit. 

"  'T  ain't  no  fun  setting  out  here,"  he 
called  to  her,  "so  I  'm  going  in  the  house 
and  take  a  nap." 

She  willingly  consented,  as  she  was 
through  with  her  ironing  and  thought  to 
snatch  a  few  winks  of  sleep  herself. 

The  little  boy  slipped  quietly  through  the 
house,  noiselessly  across  the  back-yard  and 
into  his  father's  big  garden,  which  was  sepa- 
rated from  that  of  his  neighbor  by  a  high 
board-fence.  He  quickly  climbed  the  fence, 
flew  across  Miss  Minerva's  tomato  patch 
and  tiptoed  up  her  back  steps  to  the  back- 


William  Green  Hill  [115 

porch,  his  little  bare  feet  giving  no  sign  of 
his  presence.  Hearing  curious  noises  com- 
ing from  the  bath-room,  where  Billy  was 
bumping  the  chair  up  and  down  in  his  efforts 
to  release  his  mouth,  he  made  for  that  spot, 
promptly  unlocked  the  door,  and  walked  in. 
Billy  by  scufflling  and  tugging  had  freed  his 
mouth  from  the  towel  that  bound  it  at  that 
moment. 

"Hush!"  he  whispered  as  Jimmy  opened 
the  door,  "you  '11  get  eat  up  alive  if  you 
don't  look  out."  His  tone  was  so  myste- 
rious and  thrilling  and  he  looked  so  scared 
tied  to  the  chair  that  the  younger  boy's  blood 
almost  froze  in  his  veins. 

"What  you  doing  all  tied  up  so?"  he  asked 
in  low,  frightened  tones. 

"Mr.  Algernon  Jones  done  it.  I  spec'  he  's 
a  robber  an'  is  jes'  a-robberin'  right  now," 
answered  Billy. 

"I  '11  untie  you,"  said  his  chum. 

"Naw ;  you  better  not,"  said  Billy  bravely. 
"He  might  git  away.  You  leave  me  jes'  like 
he  fixed  me  so  's  you  can  try  to  ketch  him. 
I  hear  him  in  the  dinin'-room  now.  You 
leave  me  right  here  an'  step  over  to  yo' 
house  an'  'phone  to  some  mens  to  come  and 


fS6\  Miss  Minerva  and 

git  him  quick.  Shet  the  do'  ag'in  an'  don't 
make  no  noise.    Fly,  now !" 

And  Jimmy  did  fly.  He  again  took  the 
garden  route  and  in  a  minute  was  at  the 
telephone  with  the  receiver  at  his  ear. 

"Hello!  Is  that  you,  Miss  Central?  This 
is  me,"  he  howled  into  the  transmitter. 
"Gimme  Miss  Minerva's  beau.  I  don't  know 
his  number,  but  he  's  got  a  office  over  my 
papa's  bank." 

His  father  being  out  of  town,  the  little  boy 
shrewdly  decided  that  Miss  Minerva's  beau 
was  the  next  best  man  to  help  capture  the 
robber. 

"Miss  Minerva  what  lives  by  me,"  he 
shrieked. 

Fortunately  Central  recognized  his  child- 
ish voice  and  was  willing  to  humor  him,  so 
as  she  too  knew  Miss  Minerva's  beau  the 
connection  was  quickly  made. 

"Hello!  Is  that  you,  Major?  This  is  me. 
If  you  don't  want  Mr.  Algernon  Jones  to 
be  robbering  everything  Miss  Minerva  's  got 
you  better  get  a  move  on  and  come  right 
this  minute.  You  got  to  hustle  and  bring 
'bout  a  million  pistols  and  guns  and  swords 
and  tomahawks  and  all  the  mans  you  can 
find  and  dogs.    He  's  the  fiercest  robber  ever 


William  Green  Hill  [117 

was,  and  he  's  already  done  tie  Billy  to  a 
bath-room  chair  and  done  eat  up  'bout  a 
million  cold  biscuits,  I  spec*.  All  of  us  is 
'bout  to  be  slewed.    Good-bye." 

The  plump,  round  gentleman  at  the  other 
end  of  the  wire  heard  this  amazing  message 
in  the  utmost  confusion  and  consternation. 
He  frantically  rang  the  telephone  again  and 
again  but  could  get  no  answer  from  the 
Garners'  home  so  he  put  on  his  hat  and 
walked  the  short  distance  to  Miss  Minerva's 
house. 

Jimmy  was  waiting  to  receive  him  at  the 
front  gate,  having  again  eluded  Sarah  Jane's 
vigilance. 

"Hush !"  he  whispered  mysteriously,  "he  's 
in  the  dining-room.  Ain't  you  bringed  no- 
body else?    Get  your  pistol  and  come  on." 

Mr.  Algernon  Jones,  feeling  safe  and 
secure  for  the  next  hour  and  having  par- 
taken of  a  light  lunch,  was  in  the  act  of 
transferring  some  silver  spoons  from  the 
sideboard  to  his  pockets  when  a  noise  at  the 
dining-room  door  caused  him  to  look  in  that 
direction.  With  an  oath  he  sprang  forward, 
and  landed  his  fist  upon  the  nose  of  a  plump 
gentleman  standing  there,  bringing  a  stream 
of  blood  and  sending  him  sprawling  to  the 


%18\ 


Miss  Minefba.  and 


floor.  Mr.  Jones  overturned  a  big-eyed  little 
boy  who  was  in  his  way  and,  walking  rapidly 
in  the  direction  of  the  railroad,  the  erstwhile 
plumber  was  seen  no  more. 


Jimmy  quickly  recovered  himself  and 
sprang  to  his  feet.  Seeing  the  blood  stream- 
ing down  the  white  shirt  front  of  Miss 
Minerva's  unconscious  beau,  he  gathered  his 
wits  together  and  took  the  thread  of  events 


William  Green  Hill  [119 

again  into  his  own  little  hands.  He  flung 
himself  over  the  fence,  careless  of  Sarah 
Jane  this  time,  mounted  a  chair  and  once 
more  rang  the  telephone. 

"Hello!  Is  that  you,  Miss  Central?  This 
is  me  some  more.  Gimme  Doctor  Sanford's 
office,  please." 

"Hello !  Is  that  you,  Doctor?  This  is  me. 
Mr.  Algernon  Jones  done  kilt  Miss  Minerva's 
beau.  He 's  on  her  back-porch  bloody  all 
over.  He  's  'bout  the  deadest  man  they  is. 
You  'd  better  come  toreckly  you  can  and 
bring  the  hearse,  and  a  coffin  and  a  clean 
shirt  and  a  tombstone.  He  's  wounded  me 
but  I  ain't  dead  yet.    Good-bye." 

Doctor  Sanford  received  Jimmy's  crazy 
message  in  astonishment.  He,  too,  rang  the 
telephone  again  and  again  but  could  hear 
nothing  more,  so  he  walked  down  to  Miss 
Minerva's  house  and  rang  the  door-bell. 
Jimmy  opened  the  door  and  led  the  way  to 
the  back-porch,  where  the  injured  man,  who 
had  just  recovered  consciousness,  was  sitting 
limply  in  a  chair. 

"What  does  all  this  mean?  Are  you 
hurt?"  asked  the  Doctor  as  he  examined  Mr. 
Jones's  victim. 

"No,  I  think  I  'm  all  right  now,"  was  the 


120]  cMiss  cMineroa  and 

reply;  "but  that  scoundrel  certainly  gave 
me  a  severe  blow." 

Billy,  shut  up  in  the  bath-room  and  listen- 
ing to  all  the  noise  and  confusion,  had  been 
scared  nearly  out  of  his  senses.  He  had 
kept  as  still  as  a  mouse  till  now,  when,  think- 
ing he  heard  friendly  voices  he  yelled  out, 
"Open  the  do*  an'  untie  me." 

"We  done  forgot  Billy,"  said  the  little 
rescuer,  as  he  ran  to  the  bath-room  door 
and  opened  it.  He  was  followed  by  the 
Doctor,  who  cut  the  cords  that  bound  the 
prisoner. 

"Now,  William,"  commanded  Doctor  San- 
ford  as  they  grouped  themselves  around  the 
stout,  plump  gentleman  in  the  chair,  "begin 
at  the  beginning,  and  let  us  get  at  the  bottom 
of  this  affair." 

"Mr.  Algernon  Jones  he  come  to  the  gate," 
explained  the  little  boy,  "an*  he  say  he  goin' 
to  fix  the  water  pipe  an'  he  say  he  's  a 
plumber.  He'sa  very  'greeable  man,  but  I 
don't  want  Aunt  Minerva  to  marry  himT 
now.  I  was  plumb  tickled  at  him  an'  I  tuck 
him  to  the  bath-room  an'  fust  thing  I 
knowed  he  grabbed  holter  me  an'  shuck  me 
like  what  you  see  a  cat  do  a  mouse,  an'  he 
say " 


William  Green  HM  [I2t 

"And  he  'd  more  'n  a  million  whiskers," 
interrupted  Jimmy,  who  thought  Billy  was 
receiving  too  much  attention,  "and  he " 

"One  at  a  time,"  said  the  Doctor.  "Pro- 
ceed, William." 

"An'  he  say  he  '11  bust  my  brains  outer  my 
head  if  I  holler,  an'  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  holler 
neither,  an*  he  tie  me  to  a  chair  an*  tie  my 
mouth  up  an*  lock  the  do' " 

"And  I  corned  over,"  said  Jimmy  eagerly, 
"and  I  run  home  and  I  see  Mr.  Algernon 
Jones  is  a  robber  and  I  'phoned  to  Miss 
Minerva's  beau,  and  if  he  'd  brunged  what  I 
telled  him,  he  would  n't  never  got  cracked 
in  the  face  like  Mr.  Algernon  Jones  done 
crack  him,  and  Billy  got  to  all  time  let 
robbers  in  the  house  so  they  can  knock  mans 
and  little  boys  down." 

"While  you  stand  talking  here  the  scoun- 
drel will  get  away,"  said  the  injured  man. 

"That  is  so,"  agreed  Doctor  Sanford,  "so 
I'll  go  and  find  the  Sheriff." 

Sarah  Jane's  huge  form  loomed  up  in  the 
back-hall  doorway,  and  she  grabbed  Jimmy 
by  the  arm. 

"Yaas,"  she  cried,  "you  gwine  take  you  a 
nap  is  yuh,  yuh  'ceitful  caterpillar.  Come 
on  home  dis  minute." 


J22]  Miss  Minerva  and 

"Lemme  go,  Sarah  Jane,"  protested  the 
little  boy,  trying  to  jerk  away  from  her,  "I 
got  to  stay  here  and  pertec'  Billy  and  Miss 
Minerva's  beau  'cause  they  's  a  robber  might 
come  back  and  tie  'em  up  and  make  'em 
bleed  if  I  ain't  here." 

"Did  Mr.  Algernon  Jones  make  all  that 
blood?"  asked  an  awe-stricken  little  boy 
gazing  in  admiration  at  the  victim  of  Mr. 
Jones's  energy.  "You  sho'  is  a  hero  to  stan' 
up  an'  let  him  knock  you  down  like  he 
done." 

"Yes,"  cried  Jimmy,  as  the  black  woman 
dragged  him  kicking  and  struggling  through 
the  hall,  "we 's  all  heroes,  but  I  bet  I  'm 
the  heroest  hero  they  is,  and  I  bet  Miss 
Minerva  's  going  to  be  mad  'bout  you  all 
spilling  all  that  blood  on  her  nice  clean 
flcor." 

"Lemme  see  yo'  big  toe  what  was  shot  off 
by  all  them  Yankees  and  Injuns  what  you 
killed  in  the  war,"  said  Billy  to  Miss 
Minerva's  beau. 

The  Major  smiled  at  the  little  boy ;  a  man- 
to-man  smile,  full  of  good  comradeship, 
humor,  and  understanding.  Billy's  little 
heart  went  out  to  him  at  once. 

"I  can't  take  off  my  shoes  at  present," 


William  Green  Hill 


[123 


said  the  veteran.  "Well,  I  must  be  going; 
I  feel  all  right  now." 

Billy  looked  at  him  with  big,  solemn  eyes. 

"You  could  n't  never  go  'thout  yo'  pants, 
could  you?"  he  asked,  "  'cause  Aunt  Minerva 
jest  nachelly  despises  pants." 

The  man  eyed  him  quizzically. 


"Well,  no;  I  don't  think  I  could,"  he 
replied ;  "I  don't  think  I  'd  look  any  better  in 
a  Mother  Hubbard  or  a  kimono." 

The  little  boy  sighed. 

"Which  you  think  is  the  fittenest  name," 
asked  he,  "Billy  or  William." 


$24]  Miss  Minerva,  and 

"Billy,  Billy,"  enthusiastically  came  the 
reply. 

"I  like  mens,"  said  William  Green  Hill, 
"I  sho'  wisht  you  could  come  and  live  right 
here  with  me  and  Aunt  Minerva." 

"I  wish  so,  too,"  said  the  Major. 


William  Green  Hill  [125 


CHAPTER  XV 

BILLY,  THE   CREDULOUS 

FTER  the  advent  and  dis- 
appearance of  the  exciting 
Mr.  Jones,  Miss  Minerva, 
much  to  Billy's  joy,  had  a 
telephone  put  in  the  house. 
He  sat  in  the  hall  the  day  it 
was  put  in  waiting  for  it  to  ring. 

Jimmy,  coming  up  on  the  front  porch  and 
through  the  half-open  door  and  seeing  him 
sitting  there,  rang  the  door  bell  just  for  a 
joke,  ready  to  burst  into  a  laugh  when  the 
other  little  boy  turned  around  and  saw  who 
it  was.  Billy,  however,  in  his  eagerness 
mistook  the  ring  for  the  telephone  bell  and 
joyfully  climbed  up  on  the  chair,  which  he 
had  stationed  in  readiness.  He  took  down 
the  receiver  as  he  had  seen  Jimmy  do  in  his 
home  and,  without  once  seeing  that  little 
boy  standing  a  few  feet  from  him,  he  yelled 
at  the  top  of  his  lungs: 


126\  Miss  Minerva  and 

"Hello!    Who  is  that?" 

"This  is  Marie  Yarbrough,"  replied 
Jimmy  from  the  doorway,  instantly  recog- 
nizing Billyh  mistake. 

Marie  Yarbrough  was  a  little  girl  much 
admired  by  the  two  boys,  as  she  had  a  pony 
and  cart  of  her  very  own.  However,  she 
lived  in  a  different  part  of  the  town  and 
attended  another  Sunday-School,  so  they 
had  no  speaking  acquaintance  with  her. 

"I  jus*  wanted  to  talk  to  you,"  went  on 
the  counterfeit  Marie,  stifling  a  laugh  and 
trying  to  talk  like  a  girl.  "I  think  you  're 
'bout  the  sweetest  little  boy  they  is  and  I 
want  you  to  come  to  my  party." 

"I  sho'  will,"  screamed  the  gratified  Billy, 
"if  Aunt  Minerva  '11  lemme.     What  make  * 
you  talk  so  much  like  Jimmy?" 

"Who?  — that  little  old  Jimmy  Garner? 
I  hope  I  don't  talk  like  that  chicken,  he  's 
'bout  the  measliest  boy  they  is  and  I  like 
you  'nother  sight  better  'n  him.  You  're  a 
plumb  jim-dandy,  Billy,"  came  from  the 
doorway. 

"So  's  you,"  howled  back  the  delighted 
and  flattered  Billy. 

Jimmy  thought  he  would  pop  wide  open 
in  his  efforts  to  keep  from  laughing. 


WitUam  Green  Hill  [127 

"How  'd  you  like  to  be  my  sweetheart?" 
he  asked. 

"I  's  already  promise'  to  marry  Miss 
Cecilia  when  I  puts  on  long  pants,  but  if 
we  ever  gits  a  'vorce  I  'd  'nother  sight  ruther 
have  you  'n  anybody.  You  can  be  my  lady- 
frien',  anyhow,"  was  the  loud  reply. 

"I  'm  coming  for  you  to  go  riding  in  my 
little  pony  and  cart,"  said  a  giggling  Jimmy. 

"All  right,  I 's  going  to  ask  Aunt  Minerva 
to  lemme  go.    Can't  we  take  Jimmy  too?" 

This  was  too  much  for  the  little  boy.  He 
had  held  himself  in  as  long  as  possible.  He 
burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter  so  merry  and 
so  loud  that  Billy,  turning,  quickly,  almost 
fell  out  of  the  chair. 

"What  you  doin',  a-listening  to  me  talk 
to  Marie  Yarbrough  th'oo  the  telephone?" 
he  questioned  angrily. 

"Marie  your  pig's  foot,"  was  the  inelegant 
response.  "That  was  just  me  a-talking  to 
you  all  the  time.  You  all  time  think  you 
talking  to  little  girls  and  all  time  't  ain't 
nobody  but  me." 

A  light  dawned  upon  the  innocent  one. 
He  promptly  hung  up  the  receiver  and  got 
down  out  of  the  chair.  Before  Jimmy  was 
fully    aware    of    his    intention,    Billy    had 


128\  Miss  Minerva  and 

thrown  him  to  the   floor  and  was   giving 
him  a  good  pommeling. 

"Say  you  got  'nough?"  he  growled  from 
llis  position  astride  of  the  other  boy. 

"I  got  'nough,  Billy,"  repeated  Jimmy. 

"Say  you  sorry  you  done  it." 

"I  say  I  sorry  I  done  it,"  abjectly  repeated 
the  younger  child.  "Get  up,  Billy,  'fore 
you  bust  my  stommick  open." 

"Say  you  ain't  never  a-goin'  to  tell 
nobody,  cross  yo'  heart,"  was  the  next 
command. 

"I  say  I  ain't  never  going  to  tell  nobody, 
cross  my  heart.  Get  up,  Billy,  'fore  you 
make  me  mad,  and  ain't  no  telling  what 
I  '11  do  to  you  if  I  get  mad." 

"Say  you  's  a  low-down  Jezebel  skunk." 

"I  ain't  going  to  say  I  'm  nothing  of  the 
kind,"  spiritedly  replied  the  under-dog. 
"You  all  time  wanting  somebody  to  call 
theirselfs  someping.  You're  a  low-down 
Isabella  skunk  yourself." 

"You  got  to  say  it,"  insisted  the  victor, 
renewing  hostilities. 

"I  '11  say  I  'm  a  Isabella 
'cause  Isabella  discovered 
America  and  's  in  the 
Bible,"     replied     the     tor- 


William  Green  Hill  [t29 

merited  one;  "Miss  Cecilia  'splained  it  to 
me. 

Billy  accepted  his  compromise  and 
Jimmy's  flattened  stomach,  relieved  of  its 
burden,  puffed  out  to  its  usual  roundness 
as  that  little  boy  rose  to  his  feet,  saying : 

"Sam  Lamb  would  'a'  died  a-laughing, 
Billy,  if  he  'd  seen  you  telephoning.,, 

"He  'd  better  never  hear  tell  of  it,"  was 
the  threatening  rejoinder. 


130]  Miss  Minerva  and 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  HUMBLE  PETITION 

ILLY,  sitting  in  an  old 
buggy  in  front  of  the  livery 
stable,  had  just  engaged  in 
a  long  and  interesting  con- 
versation with  Sam  Lamb. 
He  was  getting  out  of  the 
vehicle  when  the  sharp  wire  around  a  broken 
rod  caught  in  the  back  of  his  trousers  and 
tore  a  great  hole.  He  felt  a  tingling  pain 
and  looked  over  his  shoulder  to  investigate. 
Not  being  satisfied  with  the  result,  he  turned 
his  back  to  the  negro  and  anxiously  en- 
quired, "Is  my  breeches  tore,  Sam?" 

"Dey  am  dat,"  was  the  reply,  "dey  am 
busted  f  m  Dan  ter  Beersheba." 

"What  I  goin'  to  do  'bout  it?"  asked  the 
little  boy,  "Aunt  Minerva  sho'  will  be  mad. 
These  here 's  bran-spankin'  new  trousers 
what  I  ain't  never  wore  tell  to-day.  Ain't 
you  got  a  needle  an*  thread  so  's  you  can  fix 
'em,  Sam?" 


William  Green  Hill 


[S3! 


"Nary  er  needle,"  said  Sam  Lamb. 
"Is  my  union  suit  tore,  too?"  and  Billy 
again  turned  his  back  for  inspection. 
His  friend  made  a  close  examination. 


"Yo'  unions  is  injured  plum  scanerlous," 
was  his  discouraging  decision,  "and  hit 
'pears  ter  me  dat  yo'  hide  done  suffer  too; 
you  's  got  er  tumble  scratch." 

The  child  sighed.  The  injury  to  the  flesh 
was  of  small  importance,  —  he  could  hide 
that  from  his  aunt  —  but  the  rent  in  his 
trousers  was  a  serious  matter. 


132]  Miss  Minerva  and 

"I  wish  I  could  git  'em  mended  'fore  1 
goes  home,"  he  said  wistfully. 

"I  tell  you  what  do,"  suggested  Sam,  "I 
'low  Miss  Cecilia  '11  holp  yeh ;  jest  go  by  her 
house  an'  she  '11  darn  'em  up  fer  yuh." 

Billy  hesitated. 

"Well,  you  see,  Sam,  me  an'  Miss  Cecilia  's 
engaged  an'  we 's  fixin'  to  marry  jes'  's 
soon  's  I  puts  on  long  pants,  an'  I  'shame' 
to  ask  her.  An'  I  don't  berlieve  young 
'omans  patches  the  breeches  of  young  mans 
what  they's  goin'  to  marry  nohow.  Do  you? 
Aunt  Minerva  ain'  never  patched  no 
breeches  for  the  Major.  And  then,"  with  a 
modest  blush,  "my  unions  is  tore  too,  an'  I 
ain't  got  on  nothin'  else  to  hide  my  skin." 

Again  he  turned  his  back  to  his  friend 
and,  his  clouded  little  face  looking  over  his 
shoulder,  he  asked,  "Do  my  meat  show, 
Sam?" 

"She  am  visible  ter  the  naked  eye,"  and 
Sam  Lamb  laughed  loudly  at  his  own  wit. 

"I  don't  believe  God  pays  me  much  atten- 
tion nohow,"  said  the  little  boy  dolefully; 
"ev'y  day  I  gets  put  to  bed  'cause  sumpin  's 
all  time  a-happenin'.  If  He  'd  had  a  eye  on 
me  like  He  oughter  they  would  n't  a  been  no 


Wiltiam  Green  Hill 


[133 


snaggin'.    Aunt  Minerva  's  goin'  to  be  mad 
th  oo  an'  th'oo." 

"May  be  my  oV  'oman  can  fix  'em,  so's 
dey  won't  be  so  tumble  bad,"  suggested  the 
negro,  "  't  aint  fer,  so  you  jes'  run  down  ter 
my  cabin  an'  tell  Sukey  I  say  fix  dem 
breeches/' 

The  child  needed  no  second  bidding,  —  he 
fairly  flew.  Sam's  wife  was  cooking,  but 
she  cheerfully  stopped  her  work  to  help  the 
little  boy.  She  sewed  up  his  union  suit  and 
put  a  bright  blue  patch  on  his  brown  linen 
breeches. 

Billy  felt  a  little  more  cheerful,  though  he 
still  dreaded  confessing  to  his  aunt  and  he 
loitered  along  the  way  till  it  was  nearly  dark. 
Supper    was  #SS" 

ready  when  he 
got  home  and 
he  walked  into 
the  dining- 
room  with  his 
customary  ease 
and  grace.  But 
he  took  his  seat 
uneasily,  and  he 
was  so  quiet 
during  the  meal 


A'MM-0 


134]  Miss  Minerva  and 

and  ate  so  little  that  his  aunt  asked  him 
if  he  were  sick.  He  was  planning  in  his 
mind  how  to  break  the  news  of  the  day's 
disaster  to  her. 

"You  are  improving,  William,"  she  re- 
marked presently,  "you  have  n't  got  into  any 
mischief  to-day.  You  have  been  a  mighty 
good  little  boy  now  for  two  days." 

Billy  flushed  at  the  compliment  and 
shifted  uneasily  in  his  seat.  That  patch 
seemed  to  burn  him. 

"If  God  'd  jest  do  His  part,"  he  said  dark- 
ly, "I  would  n't  never  git  in  no  meanness." 

After  supper  Miss  Minerva  washed  the 
dishes  in  the  kitchen  sink  and  Billy  carried 
them  back  to  the  dining-room.  His  aunt 
caught  him  several  times  prancing  sideways 
in  the  most  idiotic  manner.  He  was  making 
a  valiant  effort  to  keep  from  exposing  his 
rear  elevation  to  her;  once  he  had  to  walk 
backward. 

"William,"  she  said  sharply,  "you  will 
break  my  plates.  What  is  the  matter  with 
you  to-night?" 

A  little  later  they  were  sitting  quietly  in 
Miss  Minerva's  room.  She  was  reading 
"The  Christian  at  Home,"  and  he  was  ab- 
sently looking  at  a  picture  book. 


William  Green  Hilt  [t35 

"Sam  Lamb's  wife  Sukey  sho'  is  a  beau- 
tiful patcher,"  he  remarked,  feeling  his  way. 

She  made  no  answering  comment,  and 
the  discouraged  little  boy  was  silent  for  a 
few  minutes.  He  had  worn  Aunt  Cindy's 
many-colored  patches  too  often  to  be 
ashamed  of  this  one  for  himself,  but  he  felt 
that  he  would  like  to  draw  his  aunt  out 
and  find  how  she  stood  on  the  subject  of 
patches. 

"Aunt  Minerva,"  he  presently  asked, 
"what  sorter  patches  'd  you  ruther  wear  on 
yo'  pants,  blue  patches  or  brown?" 

"On  my  what?"  she  asked,  looking  at  him 
severely  over  her  paper. 

"I  mean  if  you  's  me,"  he  hastily  explained. 
"Don't  you  think  blue  patches  is  the  mos' 
nat'ral  lookin'?" 

"What  are  you  driving  at,  William?"  she 
asked;  but  without  waiting  for  his  answer 
she  went  on  with  her  reading. 

The  child  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  his 
little  mind  busy,  then  he  began,  "Aunt 
Minerva ?" 

She  peered  at  him  over  her  glasses  a 
second,  then  dropped  her  eyes  to  the  paper 
where  an  interesting  article  on  Foreign 
Missions  held  her  attention. 


136]  SMiss  Minerva  and 

"Aunt  Minerva,  I  snagged  —  Aunt  Mi- 
nerva, I  snagged  my  —  my  skin,  to-day." 

"Let  me  see  the  place,"  she  said  absently, 
her  eyes  glued  to  a  paragraph  describing 
a  cannibal  feast. 

"I  's  a-settin'  on  it  right  now,"  he  replied. 

Another  long  silence  ensued.  Billy  re- 
solved to  settle  the  matter. 

"I  's  gettin'  sleepy,"  he  yawned.  "Aunt 
Minerva,  I  wants  to  say  my  prayers  and  go 
to  bed." 

She  laid  her  paper  down  and  he  dropped 
to  his  knees  by  her  side.  He  usually 
sprawled  all  over  her  lap  during  his  lengthy 
devotions,  but  to-night  he  clasped  his  little 
hands  and  reared  back  like  a  rabbit  on  its 
haunches. 

After  he  had  rapidly  repeated  the  Lord's 
prayer,  which  he  had  recently  learned,  and 
had  invoked  blessings  on  all  his  new 
friends  and  never-to-be-forgotten  old  ones, 
he  concluded  with : 

"An\  O  Lord,  You  done  kep'  me  fom 
meddlin'  with  Aunt  Minerva's  hose  any 
mo',  an*  you  done  kep'  me  fom  gittin' 
any  mo'  Easter  eggs,  an*  playin'  any  mo' 
Injun,  an'  You  done  kep'  me  fom  lettin' 
Mr.  Algernon  Jones  come  ag'in,  an'  now,  O 


William  Green  Hill  [t37 

Lord,  please  don't  lemme  worry  the  very 
'zistence  outer  Aunt  Minerva  any  mo'  'n 
You  can  help,  like  she  said  I  done  this 
mornin,'  an*  please,  if  Thy  will  be  done, 
don't  lemme  tear  the  next  new  breeches 
what  she  '11  gimme  like  I  done  ruint  these- 
here  what  I  got  on." 


138]  Miss  fflinetba  and 


CHAPTER  XVII 
A  GREEN-EYED  BILLY 

AVE  some  candy?"  said 
Miss  Cecilia,  offering  a  big 
box  of  bonbons  to  Billy,  who 
was  visiting  her. 

"Where  'd  you  git  'em?" 
|  he  asked,  as  he  helped  him- 
self generously. 

"Maurice  sent  them  to  me  this  morning." 
Billy  put  all  his  candy  back  into  the  box. 
"I  don't  believe  I  wants  noner  yo'  candy," 
he  said,   scowling  darkly.     "I   reckon  you 
likes  him  better  'n  me  anyhow,  don't  you?" 
"I  love  you  dearly,"  she  replied. 
The  child  stood  in  front  of  her  and  looked 
her  squarely  in  the  eye.     His   little   form 
was  drawn  to  its  full,  proud  height,  his  soft, 
fair  cheeks  were  flushed,  his  big,  beautiful, 
grey  eyes  looked  somber  and  sad. 

"Is  you  in  love  with  that  red-headed 
Maurice  Richmond  an'  jes'  a-foplin'  o'  me?" 
he  asked  with  dignity. 


William  Green  Hill  [139 

A  bright  flush  dyed  crimson  the  young 
lady's  pretty  face. 

She  put  her  arm  around  the  childish, 
graceful  figure  and  drew  the  little  boy  to  the 
sofa  beside  her. 

"Now,  honey,  you  must  n't  be  silly,"  she 
said  gently,  "you  are  my  own,  dear,  little 
sweetheart." 

"An'  I  reckon  he's  yo*  own,  dear,  big 
sweetheart,"  said  the  jealous  Billy.  "Well, 
all  I  got  to  say  is  this-here;  if  he  's  a-goin' 
to  come  to  see  you  ev'y  day  then  I  ain't 
never  comin'  no  mo'.  He  's  been  a-carryin' 
on  his  foolishness  'bout  's  long  as  I  can 
stand  it.  You  got  to  chose  'tween  us  right 
this  minute;  he  come  down  here  mos'  ev'y 
day,  he  's  tuck  you  drivin'  more'n  fifty 
hunderd  times,  an'  he's  give  you  all  the 
candy  you  can  stuff." 

"He  is  not  the  only  one  who  comes  to  see 
me,"  she  said  smiling  down  at  him.  "Jimmy 
comes  often  and  Len  Hamner  and  Will 
Reid.     Don't  you  want  them  to  come?" 

"Don't  nobody  pay  no  'tention  to  Jimmy," 
he  replied  contemptuously ;  "he  ain't  nothin' 
but  a  baby,  an'  them  other  mens  can  come  if 
you  wants  'em  to;  but,"  said  Billy,  with  a 
lover's   unerring  intuition,   "I   ain't   a-goin' 


t40]  Miss  Minerva  and 

to  stand  fer  that  long-legged,  sorrel-top 
Maurice  Richmond  a-trottin'  his  great  big 
carkiss  down  here  ev'y  minute.  I  wish 
Aunt  Minerva  'd  let  me  put  on  long  pants 
to-morrer  so  's  we  could  git  married."  He 
caught  sight  of  a  new  ring  sparkling  on  her 
finger. 

"Who  give  you  that  ring?"  he  asked 
sharply. 

"A  little  bird  brought  it  to  me,"  she  said, 
trying  to  speak  gayly,  and  blushing  again. 

"A  big,  red-headed  peckerwood,"  said 
Billy  savagely. 

"Maurice  loves  you,  too," — she  hoped  to 
conciliate  him;  "he  says  you  are  the 
brightest  kid  in  town." 

"Kid,"  was  the  scornful  echo,  "  'cause 
he  's  so  big  and  tall,  he  's  got  to  call  me  a 
kid.  Well,  he  'd  jes'  a- wasting'  hi'self  lovin' 
me;  I  don't  like  him  an'  I  ain't  a-goin'  to 
never  like  him  an'  soon  's  I  puts  on  long 
pants  he  's  goin'  to  get  'bout  the  worses' 
lickin'  he  ever  did  see. 

"Say,  does  you  kiss  him  like  you  does 
me?"  he  asked  presently,  looking  up  at  her 
with  serious,  unsmiling  face. 

She  hid  her  embarrassment  in  a  laugh. 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Billy,"  she  replied. 


William  Green  Hill  [141 

"I  '11  bet  he  's  kissed  you  more  *n  fifty 
hunderd  times." 

"There  's  Jimmy  whistling  for  you,"  said 
Miss  Cecilia.  "How  do  you  two  boys  make 
that  peculiar  whistle?  I  would  recognize  it 
anywhere." 

"Is  he  ever  kiss  you  yet?"  asked  the  child. 

"I  heard  that  you  and  Jimmy  whipped 
Ed  Brown  because  he  imitated  your  own 
particular  whistle.     Did  you?" 

"How  many  times  is  he  kiss  you?"  asked 
Billy. 

The  young  girl  put  her  arm  around  him 
and  tried  to  nestle  his  little  body  against 
her  own. 

"I  'm  too  big,  anyway,  for  your  real  sweet- 
heart," she  said.  "Why,  by  the  time  you  are 
large  enough  to  marry  I  should  be  an  old 
maid.  You  must  have  Frances  or  Lina  for 
your  sweetheart." 

"An*  let  you  have  Maurice!"  he  sneered. 

She  stooped  to  lay  her  flushed  cheek 
against  his  own. 

"Honey,"  she  softly  said,  "Maurice  and  I 
are  going  to  be  married  soon;  I  love  him 
very  much  and  I  want  you  to  love  him  too." 

He  pushed  her  roughly  from  him. 

"An*  you  jes*  'ceived  me  all  the  time,"  he 


142]  .  Miss  cMinerva  and 

cried,  "an*  me  a-lovin'  you  better  'n  anybody 
I  ever  see  sence  I  's  born?  An*  you  a 
Sunday-School  teacher?  I  ain't  never 
a-goin'  to  trus'  nobody  no  mo'.  Good-bye, 
Miss  Cecilia." 

She  caught  his  hand  and  held  it  fast;  "I 
want  you  and  Jimmy  to  be  my  little  pages 
at  the  wedding,  and  wear  dear  little  white 
satin  suits  all  trimmed  with  gold  braid," — 
she  tried  to  be  enthusiastic  and  arouse  his 
interest ;  "and  Lina  and  Frances  can  be  little 
flower-girls  and  we'll  have  such  a  beautiful 
wedding." 

"Jimmy  an'  Lina  an'  Frances  can  be  all 
the  pages  an'  flower-girls  an'  brides  an' 
grooms  they  wants  to,  but  you  can't  rope 
me  in,"  he  scornfully  replied.  "I  's  done 
with  you  an'  I  ain't  never  goin'  to  have  me 
no  mo'  sweetheart  long  '^  I  live." 


William  Green  Hill  [143 

CHAPTER  XVin 

CLOSER   THAN   A   BROTHER 

iT  was  a  bad,  rainy  day. 
Jimmy  and  Billy  were  play- 
ing in  Sarah  Jane's  cabin, 
she,  however,  being  in  happy 
ignorance  o£  the  fact.  Her 
large  stays,  worn  to  the 
preaching  the  night  before,  were  hanging  on 
the  back  of  a  chair. 

"Ain't  I  glad  I  don'  have  to  wear  no  corset 
when  I  puts  on  long  pants?"  remarked 
Billy,  pointing  to  the  article.  "Ain't  that  a 
big  one?  It  's  twice  's  big  's  Aunt 
Minerva's." 

"My  mama  wears  a  big  co'set,  too,"  said 
jimmy;  "I  like  fat  womans  'nother  sight 
better  'n  lean  ones.  Miss  Minerva  's  'bout 
the  skinniest  woman  they  is;  when  I  get 
married  I  'm  going  to  pick  me  out  the  fattest 
wife  I  can  find,  so  when  you  set  in  her  lap 
at  night  for  her  to  rock  you  to  sleep  you  '11 
have  a  soft  place  to  put  your  head,  while 
she  sings  to  you." 


X44]  Miss  Minerva  and 

"The  Major — he  's  mos'  plump  enough  for 
two,"  said  Billy,  taking  down  the  stays  and 
trying  to  hook  them  around  him. 

"It  sho'  is  big,"  he  said;  "I  berlieve  it  's 
big  'nough  to  go  'round  both  of  us." 

"Le's  see  if  't  ain't,"  was  the  other  boy's 
ready  suggestion. 

He  stood  behind  Billy  and  they  put  the 
stays  around  both  little  bodies,  while,  with 
much  squeezing  and  giggling,  Billy  hooked 
them  safely  up  the  front.  The  boys  got  in 
front  of  Sarah  Jane's  one  looking-glass  and 
danced  about  laughing  with  glee. 

"We  're  like  the  twinses  what  was  growed 
together  like  mama  read  me  'bout,"  declared 
the  younger  child. 

Presently  they  began  to  feel  uncomfort- 
able, especially  Jimmy,  whose  fat,  round 
little  middle  was  tightly  compressed. 

"Here,  unhook  this  thing,  Billy,  and  le's 
take  her  off,"  he  said.  "I  'm  'bout  to  pop 
open." 

"All  right,"  agreed  his  companion. 

He  tugged  and  pulled,  but  could  get  only 
the  top  and  bottom  hooks  unclasped;  the 
middle  ones  refused  to  budge. 

"I  can't  get  these-here  hooks  to  come 
loose,"  Billy  said. 


William  Green  Hill  [145 

Jimmy  put  his  short,  fat  arms  around  him 
and  tried  his  hand,  but  with  no  better  suc- 
cess. The  stays  were  such  a  snug  fit  that 
the  hooks  seemed  glued. 

"We  sho'  is  in  a  fix,"  said  Billy  gloomily ; 
"look  like  God  all  time  lettin'  us  git  in 
trouble." 

"You  think  of  more  fool  stunts  to  do, 
William  Hill,  than  any  boy  they  is,"  cried 
the  other;  "you  all  time  want  to  get  us 
hooked  up  in  Sarah  Jane's  corset  and  you  all 
time  can't  get  nobody  loose.  What  you 
want  to  get  us  hooked  up  in  this  thing  for?" 

"You  done  it  yo'self,"  defended  the  boy  in 
front  with  rising  passion.  "Squeeze  in, 
Jimmy;  we  jes'  boun'  to  git  outer  this  'fore 
somebody  finds  it  out." 

He  backed  the  other  child  close  to  the  wall 
and  pressed  so  hard  against  him  that  Jimmy 
screamed  aloud  and  began  to  pound  him  on 
the  head  with  his  chubby  fists. 

Billy  would  not  submit  tamely  to  any  such 
treatment.  He  reached  his  hand  behind 
him  and  gave  the  smaller  boy's  cheek  a 
merciless  pinch.  The  fight  was  on.  The 
two  little  boys,  laced  up  tightly  as  they  were 
in  a  stout  pair  of  stays,  pinched  and 
scratched,  and  kicked  and  jerked.     Suddenly 


146} 


Miss  Minei*ba  and 


Billy,  leaning  heavily  against  Jimmy,  threw 
him  flat  on  his  back  and  fell  on  top  of  him. 

Bennie  Dick,  sitting  on  the  floor,  had  up 
to  this  time  watched  the  proceedings  with 
an  interested  eye;  now,  thinking  murder 
was  being  committed,  he  opened  his  big, 
red  mouth  and  emitted  a  howl  that  could  be 
heard  half  a  mile.     It  immediately  brought 


/\. /ten- 


nis mother  to  the  open  door.  When  she 
saw  the  children  squirming  on  the  floor  in 
her  only  corset,  her  indignation  knew  no 
bounds. 

"You,  Jimmy  Garner,  an'  you,  too, 
William  Hill,  yuh  little  imps  o*  Satan,  what 
you  doin'  in  my  house?  Did  n't  yo'  mammy 
tell  you  not  to  tamper  wid  me  nomo'?    Git 


William  Green  Hill  [147 

up  an*  come  here  an*  lemme  git  my  co'set 
off  o'  yuh." 

Angry  as  she  was  she  could  not  keep  from 
laughing  at  the  sight  they  presented,  as, 
with  no  gentle  hand,  she  unclasped  the  hooks 
and  released  their  imprisoned  bodies. 

"Billy  all  time —  "  began  Jimmy. 

"Billy  all  time  nothing  said  Sarah  Jane, 
"  't  ain't  no  use  fo'  to  try  to  lay  dis-here 
co'set  business  onto  Billy;  both  o'  yuh  is 
ekally  in  it.  An'  me  a-aimin'  fo'  to  go  to 
three  fun'els  dis  week  an'  a  baptizin'  on 
Sunday.  S'pose  y'  all  'd  bruck  one  o'  de 
splints,  how'd  I  look  a-presidin'  at  a  fun'el 
'thout  nare  co'set  on,  an'  me  shape'  like 
what  I  is?" 

"Who  's  dead,  Sarah  Jane?"  asked  Jimmy, 
hoping  to  stem  the  torrent  of  her  wrath. 

"Sis'  Mary  Ellen  's  las'  husban',  Brudder 
Littlejohn —  dat  's  a-who,"  she  replied, 
somewhat  mollified  at  his  interest. 

"When  did  he  die?" — Jimmy  pursued  his 
advantage. 

"He  got  'way  f'om  here  'bout  moon-down 
las'  night,"  she  replied,  losing  sight  of  her 
grievance  in  his  flattering  interrogations. 
"You  know  Sis'  Littlejohn,  she  been  married 
goin'  on  five  times.     Dis-here  '11  make  fo' 


148]  Miss  cMinerva.  and 

gentlemans  she  done  buriet  an'  dey  ain't 
nobody  can  manage  a  fun'el  like  she  kin; 
'pears  like  hit  jes'  come  natchel  to  her.  She 
sho'  is  done  a  good  part  by  eb'ry  single  hus- 
ban'  too,  an'  she  's  figgerin'  to  outdo  all  the 
yuthers  wid  Brudder  Littlejohn's  co'pse." 
Sarah  Jane  almost  forgot  her  little  audience 
in  her  intense  absorption  of  her  subject. 
"She  say  to  me  dis  mornin',  she  say,  'Mar- 
ri'ge  am  a  lott'ry,  Sis  Beddinfiel',  but  I  sho' 
is  drawed  some  han'some  prizes.'  She  got 
'em  all  laid  out  side  by  side  in  de  buryin' 
groun'  wid  er  little  imige  on  ebry  grabe ;  an* 
Sis  Mary  Ellen,  seein'  as  she  can't  read  de 
writin'  on  de  tombstones,  she  got  a  diff'unt 
little  animal  a-settin'  on  eb'ry  head  res'  so  's 
she  kin  tell  which  husban'  am  which.  Her 
fus'  husban'  were  all  time  a-huntin',  so  she 
got  a  little  white  marble  pa'tridge  a-restin' 
on  he'  head,  an'  hit  am  a  mighty  console- 
ment  to  a  po'  widda  'oman  fo'  to  know  dat 
she  can  tell  de  very  minute  her  eyes  light 
on  er  grabe  which  husban'  hit  am.  Her 
secon'  man  he  got  er  mighty  kinky,  woolly 
head  an'  he  mighty  meek,  so  she  got  a  little 
white  lamb  a-settin'  on  he  grabe ;  an'  de  nex' 
husban'  he  did  n't  have  nothin'  much  fo'  to 
disgueese  him  Fom  de  res'  'cep'in'   he   so 


William  Green  Hill  [149 

slow  an*  she  might  nigh  rack  her  brain  off, 
twell  she  happen  to  think  'bout  him  bein' 
a  Hardshell  Baptis'  an'  so  powerful  slow,  so 
she  jest  got  a  little  tarrapim  an*  sot  it  on 
him.  Hit  sho'  am  a  pretty  sight  jes'  to  go 
in  dat  buryin'  groun'  an'  look  at  'em  all, 
side  by  side ;  an'  now  she  got  Brudder  Little- 
john  to  add  to  de  res'.  He  de  onliest  one 
what 's  got  er  patch  o'  whiskers  so  she  gwine 
to  put  a  little  white  cat  on  he'  grabe.  Yes, 
Lord,  ef  anythink  could  pearten'  a  widda 
'oman  hit  would  be  jes'  to  know  dat  yuh 
could  go  to  de  grabeyard  any  time  yuh  want 
10  an'  look  at  dat  han'some  c'llection  an'  tell 
'zactly  which  am  which." 

Sarah  Jane  stopped  for  breath  and  Billy 
hastened  to  inquire, 

"Who  else  is  dead,  Sarah  Jane?" 

"  'T  ain't  nobody  else  dead,  yit,  as  I  knows 
on,  but  my  two  cousins  is  tumble  low;  one 
's  got  a  hemrage  on  de  lung  an'  de  yuther  's 
got  a  congestin'  on  de  brain,  an'  I  'lows  dey 
'11  bofe  drap  off  'twix'  now  an'  sun-up 
to-morra."  Her  eyes  rolled  around  and  hap- 
pened to  light  on  her  corset.  She  at  once 
returned  to  her  grievance. 

"An*  sposin'  I  had  n't  'av'  came  in  here 
when  I  did?     I'd  'a'  had  to  went  to  my  own 


t50]  Miss  Mineitya  and 

cousins'  fun'el  'thout  nare  co'set.  Y'  all 
gotta  go  right  to  y'  all's  mamas  an'  Miss 
Minerva  dis  very  minute.  I  low  dey  '11 
settle  yo'  hashes.  Don't  y'  all  know  dat 
Larroes  ketch  meddlers?" 


William  Green  Hill  [15i 

CHAPTER  XIX 

TWINS  AND  A  SISSY 

RS.  Hamilton  and  Mrs. 
Black  were  sitting  on  Miss 
Minerva's  veranda  talking  to 
her,  and  Lira  and  Frances 
were  in  the  swing  with  Billy. 
The  attraction  proved  too 
great  for  Jimmy;  he  impolitely  left  a  dis- 
consolate little  visitor  sitting  on  his  own 
porch  while  he  jumped  the  fence  and  joined 
the  other  children. 

"Don't  you  all  wish  you  could  see  Mrs. 
Brown's  new  twinses?"  was  his  greeting  as 
he  took  his  seat  by  Billy. 

"Where  'd  she  get  'em?"  asked  Frances. 
"Doctor  Sanford  tooken  'em  to  her  last 
night." 

"He  muster  found  'em  in  a  holler  stump," 
remarked  Billy.  "I  knows,  'cause  that  's 
where  Doctor  Shacklefoot  finds  aller  oP 
Aunt  Blue-Gum  Tempy's  Peruny  Pearline's, 
an'  me  an'  Wilkes  Booth  Lincoln  been 
lookin'  in  ev'y  holler  stump  we  see  ever 


/52]  SMiss  cMtnerva  and 

sence  we  's  born,  an'  we  ain't  never  foun'  no 
baby  't  all,  'cause  can't  nobody  but  jes' 
doctors  fin'  'em.  I  wish  he  'd  a-give  'em  to 
Aunt  Minerva  'stidder  Mrs.  Brown." 

"I  wish  he  'd  bringed  'em  to  my  mama," 
said  Frances. 

"I  certainly  do  think  he  might  have  given 
them  to  us,"  declared  Lina,  "and  I  'm  going 
to  tell  him  so,  too.  As  much  money  as 
father  has  paid  him  for  doctor's  bills  and  as 
much  old,  mean  medicine  as  I  have  taken 
just  to  'commodate  him;  then  he  gives 
babies  to  everybody  but  us." 

"I  'm  awful  glad  he  never  give  'em  to  my 
mama,"  said  Jimmy,  "  'cause  I  never  could 
had  no  more  fun;  they  'd  be  stuck  right 
under  my  nose  all  time,  and  all  time  put 
their  mouth  in  everything  you  want  to  do, 
and  all  time  meddling.  You  can't  fool  me 
'bout  twinses.  But  I  wish  I  could  see  'em! 
They  so  weakly  they  got  to  be  hatched  in  a 
nincubator." 

"What  's  that?"  questioned  Frances. 

"That  's  a  someping  what  you  hatches 
chickens  and  babies  in  when  they  's  delicate, 
and  ain't  got  'nough  breath  and  ain't  got 
they  eyes  open  and  ain't  got  no  feathers  on," 
explained  Jimmy. 


William  Green  Hill  [153 

•'Reckon  we  can  see  'em?"  she  asked. 

"See  nothing!"  sniffed  the  little  boy. 
"Ever  sence  Billy  let  Mr.  Algernon  Jones 
whack  Miss  Minerva's  beau  we  can't  do 
nothing  at  all  'thout  grown  folks  V  stuck 
right  under  your  nose.  I  'm  jes'  cramped  to 
death." 

"When  I  'm  a  mama,"  mused  Frances,  "I 
hope  Doctor  Sanford  '11  bring  me  three  little 
twinses,  and  two  Maltese  kittens,  and  a  little 
Japanee,  and  a  monkey,  and  a  parrit." 

"When  I  'm  a  papa,"  said  Jimmy,  "I  don' 
want  no  babies  at  all,  all  they  's  good  for  is 
jus'  to  set  'round  and  yell." 

"Look  like  God  'd  sho'  be  busy  a-makhV 
so  many  babies,"  remarked  Billy. 

"Why,  God  don*  have  none  'a  the  trouble," 
explained  Jimmy.  "He  9s  just  got  Him  a 
baby  factory  in  Heaven  like  the  chair  fac- 
tory and  the  canning  factory  down  by  the 
railroad,  and  angels  jus'  all  time  make  they 
arms  and  legs,  like  niggers  do  at  the  chair 
factory,  and  all  God  got  to  do  is  jus*  glue 
'em  together,  and  stick  in  their  souls.  God 's 
got'  'bout  the  easiest  job  they  is." 

"I  thought  angels  jes'  clam'  the  golden 
stair  and  play  they  harps,"  said  Billy. 

"Ain't  we  going  to  look  sweet  at  Miss 


154]  Miss  Minerva  and 

Cecilia's  wedding,"  said  Frances,  after  a 
short  silence. 

"I  '11  betcher  I  '11  be  the  cutest  kid  in  that 
church/'  boasted  Jimmy  conceitedly.  "You 
coming,  ain't  you,  Billy?" 

"I  gotter  go,"  answered  that  jilted  swain, 
gljomily,  "Aunt  Minerva  ain't  got  nobody  to 
leave  me  with  at  home.  I  jes'  wish  she  'd 
git  married." 

"Why  would  n't  you  be  a  page,  Billy?" 
asked  Lina. 

"  'Cause  I  did  n't  hafto,"  was  the  snappish 
reply. 

"I  bet  my  mama  give  her  the  finest  present 
they  is,"  bragged  the  smaller  boy ;  "I  reckon 
it  cost  'bout  a  million  dollars." 

"Mother  gave  her  a  handsome  cut-glass 
vase,"  said  Lina. 

"It  looks  like  Doctor  Sanford  would  've 
give  Miss  Cecilia  those  twinses  for  a  wed- 
ding present,"  said  Frances. 

"Who  is  that  little  boy  sitting  on  your 
porch,  Jimmy?"  asked  Lina,  noticing  for  the 
first  time  a  lonely-looking  child. 

"That's  Leon  Tipton,  Aunt  Ella's  little 
boy.  He  just  come  out  from  Memphis  to 
spend  the  day  with  me  and  I  '11  be  awful 
glad  when  he  goes  home;  he's   'bout  the 


William  Green  Hill  [155 

stuck-up-est  kid  they  is,  and  skeery?  He  's 
'bout  the  'fraidest  young  un  ever  you  see. 
And  look  at  him  now?  Wears  long  curls 
like  a  girl  and  don't  want  to  never  get  his 
clean  clo'es  dirty." 

"I  think  he  's  a  beautiful  little  boy," 
championed  Lina.  "Call  him  over  here, 
Jimmy." 

"Naw,  I  don't  want  to.  You  all  '11  like 
him  a  heap  better  over  there;  he  's  one  o' 
these-here  kids  what  the  furder  you  get 
'way  from  'em,  the  better  you  like  'em." 

"He  sho'  do  look  lonesome,"  said  Billy; 
"  'vite  him  over,  Jimmy." 

"Leon!"  screamed  his  cousin,  "you  can 
come  over  here  if  you  wantta." 

The  lonesome-looking  little  boy  promptly 
accepted  the  invitation,  and  came  primly 
through  the  two  gates.  He  walked  proudly 
to  the  swing  and  stood,  cap  in  hand,  waiting 
for  an  introduction. 

"Why  did  n't  you  clam'  the  fence,  'stead 
of  coming  th'oo  the  gates?"  growled  Jimmy. 
"You  'bout  the  prissiest  boy  they  is.  Well, 
why  don't  you  set  down?" 

"Introduce  me,  please,"  said  the  elegant 
little  city  boy. 


156]  Miss  Minerva,  and 

"Interduce  your  grandma's  pussy  cats," 
mocked  Jimmy.     "Set  down,  I  tell  you." 

Frances  and  Lina  made  room  for  him 
between  them  and  soon  gave  him  their 
undivided  attention,  to  the  intense  envy  and 
disgust  of  the  other  two  little  boys. 

"I  am  Lina  Hamilton,"  said  the  little  girl 
en  his  right. 

"And  I  'm  Frances  Black,  and  Jimmy 
ought  to  be  'shamed  to  treat  you  like  he 
does." 

"I  knows  a  turrible  skeery  tale,"  remarked 
a  malicious  Billy,  looking  at  Lina  and 
Frances.  "If  y'  all  wa'n't  girls  I  'd  tell  it  to 
you." 

"We  are  n't  any  more  scared  'n  you, 
William  Hill,"  cried  Frances,  her  interest  at 
once  aroused;  "I  already  know  'bout  'raw 
meat  and  bloody  bones'  and  nothing  's  scar- 
ier 'n  that." 

"And  I  know  'Fe,  Fi,  Fo,  Fum,  I  smell 
the  blood  of  an  Englishman.  Be  he  alive  or 
be  he  dead,  I'll  ground  his  bones  to  make 
me  bread,' "  said  Lina. 

"This-here  tale,"  continued  Billy,  glueing 
his  big  eyes  to  those  of  the  little  stranger, 
"is  one  Tabernicle  learnt  fer  a  speech  at 
school.     It  's  all  'bout  a  'oman  what  was 


William  Green  Hill  [157 

buriet  in  a  graveyard  with  a  diamant  ping 
on.  her  finger,  an'  a  robber  come  in  the 
night "  The  child's  tones  were  gut- 
tural, thrilling,  and  hair-raising  as  he  glared 
into  the  eyes  of  the  effeminate  Leon,  "an* 
a  robber  come  in  the  night  an'  try  to  cut  it 
off,  an'  ha'nts  was  groanin'  an*  the  win*  moan 
co-oo  an 

Leon  could  stand  it  no  longer. 

"I  am  going  right  back,"  he  cried  rising 
with  round,  frightened  eyes,  "I  am  not  going 
to  sit  here  and  listen  to  you,  scaring  little 
girls  to  death.  You  are  a  bad  boy  to  scare 
Lina  and  Frances  and  I  am  not  going  to 
associate  with  you;"  and  this  champion  of 
the  fair  sex  stalked  with  dignity  across  the 
yard  to  the  gate. 

"I  'm  no  more  scared  *n  nothing,"  and 
indignant  Frances  hurled  at  his  back.  "You 
're  just  scared  yourself." 

Jimmy  giggled  happily.  "What  'd  I  tell 
you  all,"  he  cried,  gleefully.  "Lina  and 
Frances  got  to  all  time  set  little  'fraid  cats 
'tween  'em,"  he  snorted.  "It  's  just  like  I 
tell  you,  he  's  the  sissyest  boy  they  is;  and 
he  don't  care  who  kiss  him  neither ;  he  '11  let 
any  woman  kiss  him  what  wants  to.  Can't 
no  woman  at  all  'cepting  my  mama  and  Miss 


i58]  Miss  Minerva  and 

Cecilia  kiss  me.  But  Leon  is  'bout  the 
kissingest  kid  they  is;  why,  he'd  just  as 
soon  's  not  let  Frances  and  Lina  kiss  him; 
he  ain't  got  no  better  sense.  'Course  I  gotta 
let  Miss  Cecilia  kiss  me  'cause  she's  'bout 
the  plumpest  Sunday-School  teacher  they 
is  and  the  Bible  say  'If  your  Sunday-School 
teacher  kiss  you  on  one  cheek  turn  the  other 
cheek  and  let  her  kiss  you  on  that,  too,'  and 
I  all  time  bound  to  do  what  the  Bible  say. 
You  'd  better  call  him  back,  Frances,  and 
kiss  him,  you  and  Lina  're  so  stuck  on  him." 
"I  would  n't  kiss  him  to  save  his  life," 
declared  Frances;  "he  's  got  the  spindliest 
legs  I  ever  saw." 


William  Green  Hill  [S59 


CHAPTEE  XX 

RISING  IN  THE  WORLD 

HE  painter  had  just  finished 
putting  a  bright  green  coat 
of  paint  upon  the  low,  flat 
roof  of  Miss  Minerva's  long 
back-porch.  And  he  left  his 
ladder  leaning  against  the 
house  while  he  went  inside  to  confer  with 
her  in  regard  to  some  other  work. 

Billy,  Jimmy,  Frances,  and  Lina  had  been 
playing  "Fox  and  Geese."  Running  around 
the  house  they  spied  the  ladder  and  saw  no 
owner  to  deny  them. 

'Le  *s  clam'  up  and  get  on  top  the  porch," 
suggested  Jimmy. 

"Aunt  Minerva  '11  put  me  to  bed  if  I  do," 
said  Billy. 

"Mother  '11  make  me  learn  a  whole  page 
of  the  catechism  if  I  climb  a  ladder,"  said 
Lina. 

"My  mama  '11  shut  me  up  in  the  closet,  but 
our  mamas  are  n't  bound  to  know  'bout  it," 


160]  Miss  SMineroa  and 

— this  from  Frances.  "Come  on,  let 's  climb 
up." 

"I  ain't  never  promise  not  to  clam'  no 
ladder  but "    Billy  hesitated. 

"You-ali  'bout  the  skeeriest  folks  they  is," 
sneered  Jimmy.  "Mama  '11  whip  me  going 
and  coming  if  she  finds  out  'bout  it,  but  I 
ain't  skeered.  I  dare  anybody  to  dare  me 
to  clam'  up." 

"I  dare  you  to  climb  this  ladder,"  re- 
sponded an  accommodating  Frances. 

"I  ain't  never  tooken  a  dare  yet,"  boasted 
the  little  boy  proudly,  his  foot  on  the  bottom 
rung.     "Who  's  going  to  f oiler  me?" 

"Don't  we  have  fun?"  cried  a  jubilant 
Frances. 

"Yes,"  answered  Jimmy;  "if  grown  folks 
don't  all  time  be  watching  you  and  sticking 
theirselfs  in  your  way." 

"If  people  would  let  us  alone,"  remarked 
Lina,  "we  could  enjoy  ourselves  every  day." 

"But  grown  folks  got  to  be  so  pertic'lar 
with  you  all  time,"  cried  Jimmy,  "they  don't 
never  want  us  to  play  together." 

He  led  the  way  up  the  ladder,  followed 
by  Frances  and  Billy;  and  Lina  brought  up 
the  rear.     The  children  ran  the  long  length 


William  Green  Hill  [161 

of  the  porch  leaving  their  footprints  on  the 
fresh,  sticky  paint. 

"Will  it  wash  off?"  asked  Frances,  look- 
ing gloomily  down  at  her  feet,  which  seemed 
to  be  encased  in  green  moccasins. 

At  that  moment  she  slipped  and  fell 
sprawling  on  top  of  the  roof.  When  the 
others  helped  her  to  her  feet,  she  was  a  sight 
to  behold,  her  white  dress  splotched  with 
vivid  green  from  top  to  bottom. 

"If  that  ain't  jus*  like  you,  Frances," 
Jimmy  exclaimed;  "you  all  time  got  to  fall 
down  and  get  paint  on  your  dress  so  we 
can't  'ceive  nobody.  Now  our  mamas  bound 
to  know  'bout  us  clamming  up  here." 

"They  would  know  it  anyhow,"  mourned 
Lina;  "we  '11  never  get  this  paint  off  of  our 
feet.  We  had  better  get  right  down  and  see 
if  we  can't  wash  some  of  it  off." 

While  they  were  talking  the  owner  of  the 
ladder,  who  had  not  noticed  them — and  was 
deaf  in  the  bargain — had  quietly  removed  it 
from  the  back-porch  and  carried  it  around  to 
the  front  of  the  house. 

The  children  looked  at  each  other  in  con- 
sternation when  they  perceived  their  loss. 

"What  we  goin'  to  do  now?"  asked  Billy. 

"If  this  ain't  just  like  Billy,  all  time  got  to 


162]  Miss  Minerva  and 

perpose  to  clam*  a  ladder  and  all  time  got 
to  let  the  ladder  get  loose  from  him," 
growled  Jimmy.  "We  done  cooked  a  goose 
egg,  this  time.  You  got  us  up  here,  Billy, 
how  you  going  to  get  us  down?" 

"I  did  n't,  neither." 

"Well,  it  's  Miss  Minerva's  house  and 
she  's  your  aunt  and  we  's  your  company 
and  you  got  to  be  'sponsible." 

"I  can  clam'  down  this-here  post,"  said 
the  responsible  party. 

"I  can  climb  down  it,  too,"  seconded 
Frances. 

"You  can't  clam'  down  nothing  at  all," 
said  Jimmy  contemptuously.  "Talk  'bout 
you  can  clam'  down  a  post;  you  'd  fall  and 
bust  yourself  wide  open ;  you  'bout  the  clum- 
siest girl  there  is;  'sides,  your  legs  're  too 
fat." 

"We  can  holla,"  was  Lina's  suggestion. 

"And  have  grown  folks  laughing  fit  to  pop 
their  sides  open?  I  'm  'shame'  to  go  any- 
wheres now  'cause  folks  all  time  telling  me 
when  I  'm  going  to  dye  some  more  Easter 
eggs!  Naw,  we  better  not  holler,"  said 
Jimmy.  "Ain't  you  going  to  do  nothing, 
Billy?" 

"I  '11  jest  slide  down  this-here  post  and  git 


William  Green  Hill 


[163 


the  painter  man  to  bring  his  ladder  back, 
Y*  all  wait  up  here." 

Billy's  solution  of  the  difficulty  seemed  the 
safest,  and  they  were  soon  released  from 
their  elevated  prison. 


«<7     ^-nAt-OO/S^LU 


^f* 


"I  might  as  well  go  home  and  be  learning 
the  catechism,"  groaned  Lina. 

"I  'm  going  to  get  right  in  the  closet 
soon  *s  I  get  to  my  house,"  said  Frances. 


164]  Miss  Minetba  and 

"Go  on  and  put  on  your  night-shirt,  Billy." 

Billy  took  himself  to  the  bath-room  and 
scrubbed  and  scrubbed ;  but  the  paint  refused 
to  come  off.  He  tiptoed  by  the  kitchen 
where  his  aunt  was  cooking  dinner  and  ran 
into  his  own  room. 

He  found  the  shoes  and  stockings  which 
were  reserved  for  Sunday  wear,  and  soon 
had  them  upon  his  little  feet. 

Miss  Minerva  rang  the  dinner-bell  and  he 
walked  quietly  into  the  dining-room  trying 
to  make  as  little  noise  and  to  attract  as  little 
attention  from  his  aunt  as  possible ;  but  she 
fastened  her  eyes  at  once  upon  his  feet. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  your  shoes  on, 
William  ?"  she  asked. 

Billy  glanced  nonchalantly  at  her. 

"Don't  you  think,  Aunt  Minerva,"  he  made 
answer,  "I  's  gittin'  too  big' to  go  'thout 
any  shoes?  I  's  mos'  ready  to  put  on  long 
pants,  an'  how  'd  I  look,  I  'd  jest  like  to  know, 
goin'  roun'  barefooted  an'  got  on  long 
breeches.  I  don'  believe  I  '11  go  barefooted 
no  mo' — I'll  jest  wear  my  shoes  ev'y  day." 

"I  just  believe  you  won't.  Go  take  them 
off  at  once  and  hurry  back  to  your  dinner." 
"Lemme  jest  wait  tell  I  eats,"  he  begged, 
hoping  to  postpone  the  evil  hour  of  exposure. 


William  Green  Hill  [165 

"No,  go  at  once,  and  be  sure  and  wash 
your  hands." 

Miss  Minerva  spied  the  paint  the  instant 
he  made  his  second  entrance  and  imme- 
diately inquired,  "How  did  you  get  that 
paint  on  your  feet?" 

The  little  boy  took  his  seat  at  the  table 
and  looked  up  at  her  with  his  sweet, 
attractive,  winning  smile. 

"Paint  pertec's  little  boys'  feets,"  he  said, 
"an'  keeps  'em  f'om  gittin'  hurted,  Aunt 
Minerva,  don't  it?" 

Miss  Minerva  laid  down  her  fork  and  gave 
her  nephew  her  undivided  attention. 

"You  have  been  getting  into  mischief 
again,  I  see,  William ;  now  tell  me  all  about 
it.     Are  you  afraid  of  me?" 

"Yas  'm,"  was  his  prompt  response,  "an* 
I  don't  want  to  be  put  to  bed  neither.  The 
Major  he  would  n't  put  little  boys  to  bed 
day  times." 

She  blushed  and  eyed  him  thoughtfully. 
She  was  making  slow  progress  with  the 
child,  she  knew,  yet  she  still  felt  it  her  stern 
duty  to  be  very  strict  with  him  and,  having 
laid  down  certain  rules  to  rear  him  by,  she 
wished  to  adhere  to  them. 

"William,"  she  said  after  he  had  made  a 


166\  Miss  SMinerva.  and 

full  confession,   "I   won't  punish  you  this 
time  for  I  know  that  Jimmy  led  you  into  it 

but ." 

"Naw  'm,  Jimmy  did  n't.  Me  an'  him  an* 
Frances  an'  Lina's  all  'sponsible,  but  I 
promise  you,  Aunt  Minerva,  not  to  clam'  no 
mo'  ladders." 


William  Green  Hill  [167 

> 

CHAPTER  XXI 

PRETENDING  REALITY 

HE  chain-gang  had  been 
working  in  the  street  not  far 
from  Miss  Minerva's  house, 
and  Lina,  Frances,  Billy  and 
Jimmy  had  hung  on  her 
front  fence  for  an  hour, 
watching  them  with  eager  interest.  The 
negroes  were  chained  together  in  pairs,  and 
guarded  by  two,  big,  burly  white  men. 

"Let's  us  play  chain-gang,"  suggested 
Jimmy. 

"Where  we  goin'  to  git  a  chain?"  queried 
Billy ;  "  't  won't  be  no  fun  'thout  a  lock  an* 
chain." 

"I  can  get  the  lock  and  chain  off  'm  Sarah 
Jane's  cabin." 

"Yo'  mama  don't  'low  you  to  go  to  her 
cabin,"  said  Billy. 

"My  mama  don't  care  if  I  just  borra  a 
lock  and  chain ;  so  I'm  going  to  get  it." 

"I  'm  going  to  be  the  perlice  of  the  gang,'* 
said  Frances. 


168]  Miss  SMinefta.  and 

"Perlice  nothing.  You  all  time  talking 
'bout  you  going  to  be  the  perlice,"  scoffed 
Jimmy.  "I  'm  going  to  be  the  perlice 
myself." 

"No,  you  are  not,"  interposed  Lina, 
firmly.  "Billy  and  I  are  the  tallest  and  we 
are  going  to  be  the  guards,  and  you  and 
Frances  must  be  the  prisoners." 

"Well,  I  ain't  going  to  play  'thout  I  can 
be  the  boss  of  the  niggers.  It  's  Sarah 
Jane's  chain  and  she  's  my  mama's  cook, 
and  I  'm  going  to  be  what  I  please." 

"I  11  tell  you  what  do,"  was  Billy's  sug- 
gestion, "we'll  take  it  turn  about;  me  an' 
Lina  '11  firs'  be  the  perlice  an'  y'  all  be  the 
chain-gang,  an'  then  we  '11  be  the  niggers 
an'  y'  all  be  the  bosses." 

This  arrangement  was  satisfactory,  so  the 
younger  boy  climbed  the  fence  and  soon 
returned  with  a  short  chain  and  padlock. 

Billy  chained  Jimmy  and  Frances  to- 
gether by  two  round,  fat  ankles  and  put  the 
key  to  the  lock  in  his  pocket. 

"We  must  decide  what  crimes  they  have 
committed,"  said  Lina. 

"Frances  done  got  'rested  fer  shootin' 
craps    an'    Jimmy      done    got    'rested    fer 


William  Green  Hill  [t69 

'sturbin'  public  worship,"  said  the  other 
boss. 

"Naw,  I  ain't  neither,"  objected  the  male 
member  of  the  chain-gang,  "I  done  cut  my 
woman  with  a  razor  'cause  I  see  her  racking 
down  the  street  like  a  proud  coon  with 
another  gent,  like  what  Sarah  Jane's  brother 
telled  me  he  done  at  the  picnic." 

The  children  played  happily  together  for 
half  an  hour,  Billy  and  Lina  commanding, 
and  the  prisoners,  entering  thoroughly  into 
the  spirit  of  the  game,  according  prompt 
obedience  to  their  bosses.  At  last  the 
captives  wearied  of  their  role  and  clamored 
for  an  exchange  of  parts. 

"All  right,"  agreed  Lina.  "Get  the  key, 
Billy,  and  we  '11  be  the  chain-gang." 

Billy  put  his  right  hand  in  his  pocket  but 
found  no  key  there;  he  tried  the  other 
pocket  with  the  same  success ;  he  felt  in  his 
blouse,  he  looked  in  his  cap,  he  jumped  up 
and  down,  he  nearly  shook  himself  to  pieces 
all  without  avail;  the  key  had  disappeared 
as  if  by  magic. 

"I  berlieve  y'  all  done  los'  that  key,"  con- 
cluded he. 

"Maybe  it  dropped  on  the  ground,"  said 
Frances. 


S70\  Miss  Minerva  and 

They  searched  the  yard  over,  but  the  key 
was  not  to  be  found. 

"Well,  if  that  ain't  just  like  you,  Billy," 
cried  Jimmy,  "you  all  time  perposing  to 
play  chain-gang  and  you  all  time  lose  the 
key." 

Lina  grew  indignant. 

"You  proposed  this  yourself,  Jimmy 
Garner,"  she  said;  "we  never  would  have 
thought  of  playing  chain-gang  but  for  you." 

"It  looks  like  we  can't  never  do  anything 
at  all,"  moaned  Frances,  "  'thout  grown  folks 
've  got  to  know  'bout  it." 

"Yes,  and  laugh  fit  to  pop  theirselfs  open," 
said  her  fellow-prisoner.  "I  can't  never 
pass  by  Owen  Gibbs  and  Len  Hamner  now 
'thout  they  laugh  just  like  id  jets  and  grin 
just  like  pole-cats." 

"I  ain't  never  hear  tell  of  a  pole-cat  grin- 
nin',"  corrected  Billy,  "he  jes'  smell  worser 
'n  what  a  billy  goat  do." 

"It  is  Chessy  cats  that  grin,"  explained 
Lina. 

"Look  like  folks  would  get  'em  a  lot  of 
pole-cats  stead  o'  chillens  always  hafto  be 
wearing  assfetty  bags  'round  their  nakes, 
so  's  they  can  keep  off  whopping-cough," 
said  Frances. 


William  Green  Hill 


[m 


"You  can't  wear  a  pole-cat  roun'  yo' 
nake,"  grinned  Billy. 

"And  Len  Hamner  all  time  now  asking 
me,"  Jimmy  continued,  "when  I'm  going  to 
wear  Sarah  Jane's  co'set  to  Sunday-School. 
Grown  folks  'bout  the   lunatickest  things 


they  is.       Ain't  you  going  to  unlock  this 
chain,  Billy?"  he  demanded. 

"What  I  got  to  unlock  it  with?"  asked 
Billy. 

As  Jimmy's  father  was  taking  the  crest- 
fallen chain-gang  to  the  blacksmith  shop  to 


172\  SMiss  Minerva,  and 

have  their  fetters  removed,  they  had  to  pass 
by  the  livery  stable;  and  Sam  Lamb,  bent 
double  with  intoxicating  mirth  at  their 
predicament,  yelled: 

"Lordee!  Lordee!     Y'  all  sho'  is  de  out- 
landishest  kids  'twixt  de  Bad  Place  an'  de 


William  Green  Hill  [S73 

CHAPTER  XXII 

A  TRANSACTION  IN  MUMPS 

ON'T  you  come  near  me," 
screamed  Billy,  sauntering 
slowly  and  deliberately 
toward  the  dividing  fence; 
"keep  way  fom  me;  they  's 
ketchin\" 

Jimmy  was  sitting  on  his  front  steps  and 
the  proverbial  red  flag  could  not  have  ex- 
cited a  bull  to  quicker  action.  He  hopped 
down  the  steps  and  ran  across  his  own  yard 
toward  Billy  as  fast  as  his  short,  fat  legs 
could  carry  him. 

"Git  'way  fom  me;  you  '11  ketch  'em  if 
you  teches  me,"  warned  Billy;  "an'  you  too 
little  to  have  'em,"  and  he  waved  an  authori- 
tative hand  at  the  other  child.  But  Jimmy's 
curiosity  was  aroused  to  the  highest  pitch. 
He  promptly  jumped  the  fence  and  gazed 
at  his  chum  with  critical  admiration. 

"What  's  the  matter,"  he  inquired,  "you 
got  the  toothache?" 

"Toothache!"    was    the    scornful     echo, 


174]  Miss  Minerva,  and 

"well,  I  reckon  not.  Git  back;  don't  you 
tech  'em;  you  ain't  ol'  'nough  to  have  'em." 

Billy's  head  was  swathed  in  a  huge,  white 
cloth;  his  usually  lean  little  cheeks  were 
puffed  out  till  he  resembled  a  young  hippo- 
potamus, and  his  pretty  grey  eyes  were 
almost  invisible. 

"You  better  git  'way  f'om  me  an'  don't 
tech  'em,  like  I  tells  you,"  he  reiterated. 
"Aunt  Minerva  say  you  ain't  never  had  'em 
an'  she  say  fer  me  to  make  you  keep  'way 
f'om  me  'cause  you  ain't  a  ol'  chile  like  what 
I  is." 

"You  ain't  but  six,"  retorted  angry  Jimmy, 
"and  I  '11  be  six  next  month;  you  all  time 
trying  to  'suade  little  boys  to  think  you  're 
'bout  a  million  years  old.  What  's  the 
matter  with  you,  anyhow?  You  'bout  the 
funniest  looking  kid  they  is." 

Billy  theatrically  .touched  a  distended 
cheek.  "These  here  is  mumps,"  he  said 
impressively;  "an'  when  you  got  'em  you 
can  make  grown  folks  do  perzactly  what 
ycu  want  'em  to.  Aunt  Minerva  's  in  the 
kitchen  right  now  makin'  me  a  'lasses  cus- 
tard if  I'll  be  good  an'  stay  right  in  the 
house  an'  don't  come  out  here  in  the  yard 
an'  don't  give  you  the  mumps.     Course  I 


William  Green  Hill  [175 

can't  tech  that  custard  now  'cause  I  done 
come  out  here  an'  it  ain't  honer'ble;  but 
she  's  makin'  it  jes'  the  same.  You  better 
git  'way  f'om  me  an'  not  tech  'em;  you  too 
little  to  have  'em." 

"Are  they  easy  to  ketch?"  asked  the  other 
little  boy  eagerly ;  "lemme  jest  tech  'em  one 
time,  Billy." 

"Git  'way,  I  tell  you,"  warned  the  latter 
with  a  superior  air.  To  increase  Jimmy's 
envy  he  continued:  "Grown  folks  tries  to 
see  how  nice  they  can  be  to  chillens  what  's 
got  the  mumps.  Aunt  Minerva  ain't  been 
impedent  to  me  to-day;  she  lemme  do  jest 
'bout  like  I  please;  it  sho'  is  one  time  you 
can  make  grown  folks  step  lively."  He 
looked  at  Jimmy  meditatively,  "It  sho'  is  a 
plumb  pity  you  ain't  a  oF  chile  like  what 
I  is  an'  can't  have  the  mumps.  Yo'  ma  'd 
be  skeered  to  spank  you,  skeered  she  'd 
injuh  yo'  mumps.  Don't  you  come  any 
closter  to  me,"  he  again  warned,  "you  too 
little  to  have  'em." 

"I  '11  give  you  five  peewees  if  you  '11 
lemme  tech  'em  so  's  I  can  get  'em,"  pleaded 
the  younger  boy. 

Billy  hesitated.    "You  mighty  little " 

he  began. 


t76]  Miss  Minerva  and 

"And  my  stoney,"  said  the  other  child 
eagerly. 

"If  you  was  a  oV  little  boy,"  said  Billy, 
"it  would  n't  make  no  diffunce ;  I  don't  want 
to  make  yo'  ma  mad  an'  Aunt  Minerva  say 
for  me  to  keep  'way  f'om  you  anyhow, 
though  I  did  n't  make  her  no  promises." 

Jimmy  grew  angry. 

'You  're  the  stingiest  Peter  they  is, 
William  Hill,"  he  cried;  "won't  let  nobody 
tech  your  old  mumps.  My  cousin  in  Mem- 
phis 's  got  the  measles;  you  just  wait  till  I 
get  'em." 

Billy  eyed  him  critically. 

"If  you  was  ol' "  he  was  beginning. 

Jimmy  thought  he  saw  signs  of  his 
yielding. 

"And  I'll  give  you  my  china  egg,  too," 
he  quickly  proposed. 

"Well,  jest  one  tech,"  agreed  Billy;  "an' 
I  ain't  a-goin'  to  be  'sponsible  neither,"  and 
he  poked  out  a  swollen  jaw  for  Jimmy  to 
touch. 

Ikey  Rosenstein  at  this  moment  was  spied 
by  the  two  little  boys  as  he  was  walking 
jauntily  by  the  gate. 

"You  better  keep  'way  f'om  here,  Goose^ 
Grease,"  Jimmy  yelled  at  him;  "you  better 


William  Green  Hill  [177 

get  on  the  other  side  the  street.  Billy  here 
's  got  the  mumps  an*  he  lemme  tech  'em 
so  's  I  can  get  'em,  so  's  my  papa  and  mama 
'11  lemme  do  just  perzactly  like  I  want  to; 
but  you  're  a  Jew  and  Jews  ain't  got  no 
business  to  have  the  mumps,  so  you  better 
get  'way.  I  paid  Billy  'bout  a  million 
dollars'  worth  to  lemme  tech  his  mumps," 
he  said  proudly.  "Get  'way ;  you  can't  have 
em. 

Ikey  had  promptly  stopped  at  the  gate. 

"What  '11  you  take,  Billy,  to  lemme  get 
'em?"  he  asked,  his  commercial  spirit  at  once 
aroused. 

"What  '11  you  gimme?"  asked  he  of  the 
salable  commodity,  with  an  eye  to  a 
bargain. 

Ikey  pulled  out  a  piece  of  twine  and  a 
blue  glass  bead  from  his  pocket  and  offered 
them  to  the  child  with  the  mumps.  These 
received  a  contemptuous  rejection. 

"You  can  do  perzactly  like  you  please 
when  you  got  the  mumps,"  insinuated 
Jimmy,  who  had  seemingly  allied  himself 
with  Billy  as  a  partner  in  business ;  "grown 
folks  bound  to  do  what  little  boys  want  'em 
to  when  you  got  the  mumps." 

Ikey  increased  his  bid  by  the  stub  of  a 


178} 


Miss  Minerva  and 


lead  pencil,  but  it  was  not  until  he  had 
parted  with  his  most  cherished  pocket  pos- 
sessions that  he  was  at  last  allowed  to  place 
a  gentle  finger  on  the  protuberant  cheek. 

Two  little  girls  with  their  baby-buggies 
were  seen  approachinr 

"G'  'way  from  here,  Frances,  you  and 
Lina,"  howled  Jimmy.    "Don't  you  come  in 


here;  me  and  Billy  's  got  the  mumps  and 
you-all  V  little  girls  and  ought  n'  to  have 
'em.     Don't  you   come  near  us;  they   're 
ketching." 
The  two  little  girls  immediately  opened 


William  Green  Hill  [179 

the  gate,  crossed  the  yard,  and  stood  in  front 
of  Billy.  They  inspected  him  with  admira- 
tion; he  bore  their  critical  survey  with 
affected  unconcern  and  indifference,  as  be- 
fitted one  who  had  attained  such  prominence. 

"Don't  tech  'em,"  "•«»  commanded,  waving 
them  off  as  he  leaned  gracefully  against  the 
fence. 

"I  teched  'em,"  boasted  the  younger  boy. 
"What  '11  you  all  give  us  if  we  '11  let  you 
put  your  finger  on  'em?" 

"I  ain't  a-goin'  to  charge  little  girls  noth- 
in',"  said  the  gallant  Billy,  as  he  proffered 
his  swollen  jowl  to  each  in  turn. 

A  little  darkey  riding  a  big  black  horse 
was  galloping  by;  Jimmy  hailed  and  halted 
him. 

"You  better  go  fast,"  he  shrieked.  "Me 
and  Billy  and  Frances  and  Lina  's  got  the 
mumps  and  you  ain't  got  no  business  to 
have  'em  'cause  you  're  a  nigger,  and  you 
better  take  your  horse  to  the  lib'ry  stable 
'cause  he  might  ketch  'em  too." 

The  negro  boy  dismounted  and  hitched 
his  horse  to  the  fence.  "I  gotter  little 
tarrapim — "  he  began  insinuatingly. 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  there  was 
an  epidemic  of  mumps  in  the  little  town  of 


180]  Miss  Minerva  and 

Covington,  and  William  Green  Hill  grew 
rich  in  marbles,  in  tops,  in  strings,  in  toads, 
in  chewing  gum,  and  in  many  other  things 
which  comprise  the  pocket  treasures  of  little 
boys. 


William  Green  Hill  [181 

CHAPTER  XXIH 

THE  INFANT  MIND  SHOOTS 

ISS  MINERVA  had  bought 
a  book  for  Billy  entitled 
"Stories  of  Great  and  Good 
Men,"  which  she  frequently 
read  to  him  for  his  education 
\  and  improvement.  These 
stories  related  the  principal  events  in  the 
lives  of  the  heroes  but  never  mentioned  any 
names,  always  asking  at  the  end,  "Can  you 
tell  me  who  this  man  was?" 

Her  nephew  heard  the  stories  so  often 
that  he  had  some  expression  or  incident  by 
which  he  could  identify  each,  without  paying 
much  attention  while  she  was  reading. 

He  and  his  aunt  had  just  settled  them- 
selves on  the  porch  for  a  reading. 

Jimmy  was  on  his  own  porch  cutting  up 
funny  capers,  and  making  faces  for  the 
other  child's  amusement. 

"Lemme  go  over  to  Jimmy's,  Aunt 
Minerva,"  pleaded  her  nephew,  "an*  you  can 


1821  Miss  Minerva  and 

read  to  me  to-night.  I'da  heap  ruther  not 
hear  you  read  right  now.  It  '11  make  my 
belly  ache." 

Miss  Minerva  looked  at  him  severely. 

"William/'  she  enjoined,  "don't  you  want 
to  be  a  smart  man  when  you  grow  up?" 

"Yes  'm,"  he  replied,  without  much  en- 
thusiasm. "Well,  jes'  lemme  ask  Jimmy  to 
come  over  here  an'  set  on  the  other  sider 
you  whils'  you  read.  He  ain't  never  hear 
'bout  them  tales,  an'  I  s'pec'  he  'd  like  to 
come." 

"Very  well,"  replied  his  flattered  and 
gratified  relative,  "call  him  over." 

Billy  went  to  the  fence,  where  he  sig- 
naled Jimmy  to  meet  him. 

"Aunt  Minerva  say  you  come  over  an' 
listen  to  her  read  some  er  the  pretties'  tales 
you  ever  hear,"  he  said,  as  if  conferring  a 
great  favor. 

"Naw,  sirree-bob!"  was  the  impolite  re- 
sponse across  the  fence,  "them  'bout  the 
measliest  tales  they  is.  I  '11  come  if  she  '11 
read  my  Uncle  Remus  book." 

"Please  come  on,"  begged  Billy,  dropping 
the  patronizing  manner  that  he  had  assumed, 
in  hope  of  inducing  his  chum  to  share  his 
martyrdom.     "You  know  Aunt  Minerva  'd 


William  Green  Hill  [183 

die  in  her  tracks  'fore  she  *d  read  Uncle 
Remus.  You  '11  like  these-here  tales  'nother 
sight  better  anyway.  I  '11  give  you  my 
stoney  if  you'll  come." 

"Naw;  you  ain't  going  to  get  me  in  no 
such  box  as  that.  If  she  'd  just  read  seven 
or  eight  hours  I  would  n't  mind;  but  she  '11 
get  you  where  she  wants  you  and  read  'bout 
a  million  hours.     I  know  Miss  Minerva." 

Billy's  aunt  was  growing  impatient. 

"Come,  William,"  she  called.  "I  am  wait- 
ing for  you." 

Jimmy  went  back  to  his  own  porch  and 
the  other  boy  joined  his  kinswoman. 

"Why  would  n't  Jimmy  come  ?"  she  asked. 

"He  —  he  ain't  feeling  very  well,"  was  the 
considerate  rejoinder. 

"Once  there  was  a  little  boy  who  was 
born  in  Virginia "  began  Miss  Minerva. 

"Born  in  a  manger,"  repeated  the  inat- 
tentive little  boy  to  himself,  "I  knows  who 
that  was."  So,  this  important  question  set- 
tled in  his  mind,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the 
full  enjoyment  of  his  chum  and  to  the  giving 
and  receiving  secret  signals,  the  pleasure  of 
which  was  decidedly  enhanced  by  the  fear 
of  imminent  detection. 

"Father,   I    can   not  tell   a  lie,   I   did   it 


164]  Miss  Miner'ba.  and 

with  my  little  hatchet, "  read  the  thin, 

monotonous  voice  at  his  elbow. 

Billy  laughed  aloud  —  at  that  minute 
Jimmy  was  standing  on  his  head  waving 
two  chubby  feet  in  the  air. 

"William,"  said  his  aunt  reprovingly, 
peering  at  him  over  her  spectacles,  "I  don't 
see  anything  to  laugh  at,"—  and  she  did  not, 
but  then  she  was  in  ignorance  of  the  little 
conspiracy. 

"He  was  a  good  and  dutiful  son  and  he 
studied  his  lessons  so  well  that  when  he 
was  only  seventeen  years  old  he  was  em- 
ployed to  survey  vast  tracts  of  land  in 
Virginia " 

Miss  Minerva  emphasized  every  word, 
hoping  thus  to  impress  her  nephew.  But  he 
was  so  busy,  keeping  one  eye  on  her  and 
one  on  the  little  boy  on  the  other  porch, 
that  he  did  not  have  time  to  use  his  ears  at 
all  and  so  did  not  hear  one  word. 

"Leaving  his  camp  fires  burning  to  de- 
ceive the  enemy,  he  stole  around  by  a 
circuitous  route,  fell  upon  the  British  and 
captured  — " 

Billy  held  up  his  hands  to  catch  a  ball 
which  Jimmy  made  believe  to  throw. 


William  Green  Hill  [185 

Miss  Minerva  still  read  on,  unconscious  of 
her  nephew's  inattention: 

"The  suffering  at  Valley  Forge  had  been 
intense  during  the  winter " 

Billy  made  a  pretense  behind  his  aunt's 
upright  back  of  throwing  a  ball  while  the 
other  child  held  up  two  fat  little  hands  to 
receive  it.  Again  he  laughed  aloud  as 
Jimmy  spat  on  his  hands  and  ground  the 
imaginary  ball  into  his  hip. 

She  looked  at  him  sternly  over  her 
glasses : 

"What  makes  you  so  silly?"  she  inquired, 
and  without  waiting  for  a  reply  went  on  with 
her  reading;  she  was  nearing  the  close  now 
and  she  read  carefully  and  deliberately. 

"And  he  was  chosen  the  first  president  of 
the  United  States ." 

Billy  put  his  hands  to  his  ears  and  wrig- 
gled his  fingers  at  Jimmy,  who  promptly 
returned  the  compliment. 

"He  had  no  children  of  his  own,  so  he  is 
called  the  Father  of  his  Country." 

Miss  Minerva  closed  the  book,  turned  to 
the  little  boy  at  her  side,  and  asked : 

"Who  was  this  great  and  good  man, 
William?" 


186]  cMiss  cMinerva.  and 

"Jesus,"  was  his  ready  answer,  in  an 
appropriately  solemn  little  voice. 

"Why,  William  Green  Hill!"  she  ex- 
claimed in  disgust.  "What  are  you  thinking 
of?  I  don't  believe  you  heard  one  word 
that  I  read." 

Billy  was  puzzled;  he  was  sure  she  had 
said  "Born  in  a  manger."  "I  didn't  hear 
her  say  nothin'  'bout  bulrushes,"  he  thought, 
"so  't  ain't  Moses ;  she  did  n't  say  'log  cabin,' 
so  't  ain't  Ab'aham  Lincoln ;  she  did  n't  say 
'Thirty  cents  look  down  upon  you,'  so  't  ain't 
Napolyon.    I  sho'  wish  I  'd  paid  'tention." 

"Jesus!"  his  aunt  was  saying,  "born  in 
Virginia  and  first  president  of  the  United 
States!" 

"George  Washin'ton,  I  aimed  to  say," 
triumphantly  screamed  the  little  boy,  who 
had  received  his  cue. 


William  Green  Hill  [187 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  FLAW  IN  THE  TITLE 

,OME     on     over,"     invited 
Jimmy. 

"All    right;    I    believe    I 
will,"  responded  Billy,  run- 
ning    to     the     fence.     His 
aunt's  peremptory  voice  ar- 
rested his  footsteps. 

"William,  come  here!"  she  called  from 
the  porch. 

He  reluctantly  retraced  his  steps. 
"I  am  going  back  to  the  kitchen  to  bake 
a  cake  and  I  want  you  to  promise  me  not  to 
leave  the  yard." 

"Lemme  jes*  go  over  to  Jimmy's  a  little 
while,"  he  begged. 

"No;  you  and  Jimmy  can  not  be  trusted 
together;  you  are  sure  to  get  into  mischief, 
and  his  mother  and  I  have  decided  to  keep 
the  fence  between  you  for  a  while.  Now, 
promise  me  that  you  will  stay  right  in  my 
yard." 


188]  Miss  Minerva  and 

Billy  sullenly  gave  her  the  promise  and 
she  went  back  to  her  baking. 

"That  's  always  the  way  now,"  he  said, 
meeting  his  little  neighbor  at  the  fence, 
"ever  sence  Aunt  Minerva  got  onto  this- 
here  promisin'  business,  I  don*  have  no  free- 
dom 't  all.  It  's  'William,  promise  me  this,' 
an'  it  's  'William,  don't  ferget  yo'  promise 
now,'  tell  I  's  jes'  plumb  sick  'n  tired  of  it. 
She  know  I  ain't  goin'  back  on  my  word  an* 
she  jest  nachelly  gits  the  'vantage  of  me; 
she  'bout  the  hardest  'oman  to  manage  I 
ever  seen  sence  I  's  born." 

"I  can  nearly  all  time  make  my  mama  do 
anything  'most  if  I  jus'  keep  on  trying  and 
keep  on  a-begging,"  bragged  the  other  boy; 
"I  just  say  'May  I,  mama?'  and  she  '11  all 
time  say,  'No,  go  'way  from  me  and  lemme 
'lone,'  and  I  just  keep  on,  'May  I,  mama? 
May  I,  mama?  May  I,  mama?'  and  toreckly 
she  '11  say,  'Yes,  go  on  and  lemme  read  in 
peace.' " 

"Aunt  Minerva  won't  give  in  much,"  said 
Billy.  "When  she  say  'No,  William,'  't 
ain't  no  use  't  all  to  beg  her;  you  jest 
wastin'  yo'  breath.  When  she  put  her  foot 
down  it  got  to  go  just  like  she  say ;  she  sho' 


William  Green  Hill  [t89 

do  like  to  have  her  own  way  better  'n  any 
'oman  I  ever  see." 

"She  'bout  the  mannishest  woman  they 
is,"  agreed  Jimmy.  "She  got  you  under  her 
thumb,  Billy.  I  don'  see  what  womans  're 
made  fo'  if  you  can't  beg  'em  into  things. 
I  would  n't  let  no  old  spunky  Miss  Minerva 
get  the  best  of  me  that  'way.  Come  on, 
anyhow." 

"Naw,  I  can't  come,"  was  the  gloomy 
reply ;  "if  she  'd  jest  tol'  me  not  to,  I  coulder 
went  but  she  made  me  promise,  an'  I  ain't 
never  goin'  back  on  my  word.  You  come 
over  to  see  me." 

"I  can't,"  came  the  answer  across  the 
fence ;  "I  'm  earning  me  a  baseball  mask.  I 
done  already  earnt  me  a  mitt.  My  mama 
don't  never  make  me  promise  her  nothing, 
she  just  pays  me  to  be  good.  That  's  hue- 
come  I  'm  'bout  to  get  'ligion  and  go  to  the 
mourner's  bench.  She  's  gone  up  town  now 
and  if  I  don't  go  outside  the  yard  while 
she  's  gone,  she  's  going  to  gimme  a  baseball 
mask.  You  got  a  ball  what  you  bringed 
from  the  plantation,  and  I  '11  have  a  bat  and 
mitt  and  mask  and  we  can  play  ball  some. 
Come  on  over  just  a  little  while;  you  ain't 
earning  you  nothing  like  what  I  'm  doing." 


190\  Miss  Minerva,  and 

"Naw;  I  promis'  her  not  to  an'  I  ain't 
ever  goin'  to  break  my  promise." 

"Well,  then,  Mr.  Promiser,"  said  Jimmy, 
"go  get  your  ball  and  we'll  th'ow  'cross  the 
fence.     I  can't  find  mine." 

Billy  kept  his  few  toys  and  playthings  in 
a  closet,  which  was  full  of  old  plunder.  As 
he  reached  for  his  ball  something  fell  at  his 
feet  from  a  shelf  above.  He  picked  it  up, 
and  ran  excitedly  into  the  yard. 

"Look,  Jimmy,"  he  yelled,  "here  's  a  base- 
ball mask  I  found  in  the  closet." 

Jimmy,  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  he  was  to 
be  paid  for  staying  at  home,  immediately 
rolled  over  the  fence  and  ran  eagerly  toward 
his  friend.  They  examined  the  article  in 
question  with  great  care. 

"It  looks  perzactly  like  a  mask,"  an- 
nounced Jimmy  after  a  thorough  inspection, 
"and  yet  it  don't."  He  tried  it  on.  "It  don't 
seem  to  fit  your  face  right,"  he  said. 

Sarah  Jane  was  bearing  down  upon  them. 
"Come  back  home  dis  minute,  Jimmy!"  she 
shrieked,  "want  to  ketch  some  mo'  con- 
tagwous  'seases,  don't  yuh?  What  dat  y* 
all  got  now?"  As  she  drew  nearer  a  smile 
of  recognition  and  appreciation  overspread 
her  big  good-natured  face.    Then  she  burst 


William  Green  Hill  [191 

into  a  loud,  derisive  laugh.  "What  y'  all 
gwine  to  do  wid  Miss  Minerva's  old  bustle?" 
she  enquired.  "Y'  all  sho'  am  de  contaritest 
chillens  in  dis  here  copperation." 

"Bustle?"  echoed  Billy,  "What  's  a 
bustle?" 

"Dat-ar  's  a  bustle  —  dat  's  what  's  a 
bustle.  Ladies  useto  wear  'em  'cause  dey  so 
stylish  to  make  they  dresses  stick  out  in  the 
back.  Come  on  home,  Jimmy,  'fore  yuh 
ketch  de  yaller  jandis  er  de  epizootics;  yo' 
ma  tol*  yuh  to  stay  right  at  home." 

"Well,  I  'm  coming,  ain't  I?"  scowled  the 
little  boy.  "Mama  need  n't  to  know  nothing 
'thout  you  tell." 

"Would  you  take  yo'  mama's  present  now, 
Jimmy?"  asked  Billy;  "you  ain't  earnt  it." 

"Would  n't  you?"  asked  Jimmy,  doubt- 
fully. 

"Naw,  I  would  n't,  not  'thout  I  tol'  her." 

"Well,  I  '11  tell  her  I  just  corned  over  a 
minute  to  see  'bout  Miss  Minerva's  bustle," 
he  agreed  as  he  again  tumbled  over  the 
fence. 

A  little  negro  boy,  followed  by  a  tiny, 
white  dog,  was  passing  by  Miss  Minerva's 
gate. 

Billy  promptly  flew  to  the  gate  and  hailed 


192] 


Miss  cMinerua  ana 


him.  Jimmy,  looking  around  to  see  that 
Sarah  Jane  had  gone  back  to  the  kitchen,  as 
promptly  rolled  over  the  fence  and  joined 
him. 

"Lemme  see  yo'  dog,"  said  the  former. 
"Ain't  he  cute?"  said  the  latter. 
The  little  darkey  picked  up  the  dog  and 
passed  it  across  the  gate. 

"I  wish  he  was  mine,"  said  the  smaller 
child,  as  he  took  the  soft,  fluffy  little  ball 
in  his  arms;  "what  '11  you  take  for  him?" 

The  negro  boy  had  never  seen  the  dog 
before,  but  he  immediately  accepted  the 
ownership  thrust  upon  him  and  answered 
without  hesitation,  "I'll  take  a  dollar  for 
her."  v 

"I  ain't  got  but  a  nickel.  Billy,  ain't  you 
got  'nough  money  to  put  with  my  nickel  to 

make  a  dollar?" 
"Naw;Iain't 
got  a  red  cent." 
"I  '11  tell  you 
what  we  '11  do," 
suggested  Jim- 
my  ;  "we  '11 
trade  you  a 
baseball  mask 
for    him.      My 


William  Green  Hill  [193 

mama  's  going  to  gimme  a  new  mask  'cause 
I  all  time  stay  at  home,  so  we  '11  trade  you 
our  old  one.    Go  get  it,  Billy." 

Thus  commanded  Billy  ran  and  picked  up 
the  bustle  where  it  lay  neglected  on  the 
grass,  and  handed  it  to  the  quasi-owner  of 
the  puppy.  The  deal  was  promptly  closed 
and  a  black  little  negro  went  grinning  down 
the  street  with  Miss  Minerva's  ancient  bustle 
tied  across  his  face,  leaving  behind  him  a 
curly-haired  dog. 

"Ain't  he  sweet?"  said  Jimmy,  hugging 
the  fluffy  white  ball  close  to  his  breast,  "we 
got  to  name  him,  Billy." 

"Le's  name  her  Peruny  Pearline,"  was 
the  suggestion  of  the  other  joint  owner. 

"He  ain't  going  to  be  name'  nothing  at  all 
like  that,"  declared  Jimmy ;  "you  all  time  got 
to  name  our  dogs  the  scalawaggest  name 
they  is.  He  's  going  to  be  name*  'Sam 
Lamb'  'cause  he  's  my  partner." 

"She  's  a  girl  dog,"  argued  Billy,  "an*  she 
can't  be  name'  no  man's  name.  If  she  could 
I  'd  call  her  Major." 

"I  don't  care  what  sort  o'  dog  he  is,  girl 
or  boy,  he  's  going  to  be  name'  'Sam  Lamb.' 
Pretty  Sam!  Pretty  Sam!"  and  he  fondly 
stroked  the  little  animal's  soft  head. 


194]  Miss  Mineroa  and 

"Here,  Peruny !  Here,  Pemny !"  and  BiUy 
tried  to  snatch  her  away. 

The  boys  heard  a  whistle;  the  dog  heard 
it,  too.  Springing  from  the  little  boy's  arms 
Sam  Lamb  Peruny  Pearline  ran  under  the 
gate  and  flew  to  meet  her  master,  who  was 
looking  for  her. 


William  Green  Hill  [195 


CHAPTEE  XXV 

EDUCATION  AND  ITS  PERILS 

T  was  a  warm  day  in  early 
August  and  the  four  chil- 
dren were  sitting  content- 
edly in  the  swing.  They  met 
»almost  every  afternoon  now, 
Jbut  were  generally  kept 
under  strict  surveillance  by  Miss  Minerva. 
"  'T  won't  be  long  'fore  we  '11  all  haf to  go 
to  school,"  remarked  Frances,  "and  I  '11  be 
mighty  sorry;  I  wish  we  did  n't  ever  hafto 
go  to  any  old  school." 

"I  wisht  we  knowed  how  to  read  an* 
write  when  we  's  born,"  said  Billy.  "If  I 
was  God  I  *d  make  all  my  babies  so  's  they 
is  already  eddicated  when  they  gits  born. 
Reckon  if  we  'd  pray  ev'y  night  an'  ask 
God,  He  '<!  learn  them  babies  what  He  's 
makin*  on  now  how  to  read  an'  write?" 

"I  don'  care  nothing  at  all  'bout  them 
babies,"  put  in  Jimmy,  "  't  ain't  going  to  do 
us  no  good  if  all  the  new  babies  what  Doctov 


t96]  Miss  Minerva  and 

Sanford  finds  can  read  and  write;  it  'd  jes' 
make  'em  the  sassiest  things  ever  was. 
'Sides,  I  got  plenty  things  to  ask  God  for 
'thout  fooling  long  other  folks'  brats,  and  I 
ain't  going  to  meddle  with  God's  business 
nohow." 

"Did  you  all  hear  what  Miss  Larrimore, 
who  teaches  the  little  children  at  school, 
said  about  us?"  asked  Lina  importantly. 

"Naw,"  they  chorused,  "what  was  it?" 

"She  told  the  Super'ntendent,"  was  the 
reply  of  Lina,  pleased  with  herself  and  with 
that  big  word,  "that  she  would  have  to  have 
more  money  next  year,  for  she  heard  that 
Lina  Hamilton,  Frances  Black,  William 
Hill,  and  Jimmy  Garner  were  all  coming  to 
school,  and  she  said  we  were  the  most 
notorious  bad  children  in  town." 

"She  is  the  spitefullest  woman  they  is," 
Jimmy's  black  eyes  snapped;  "she  'bout  the 
meddlesomest  teacher  in  that  school." 

"Who  telled  you  'bout  it,  Lina?"  ques- 
tioned the  other  little  girl. 

"The  Super'ntendent  told  his  wife  and 
you  know  how  some  ladies  are, —  they  just 
can't  keep  a  secret.  Now  it  is  just  like 
burying  it  to  tell  mother  anything;  she 
never  tells  anybody  but  father,  and  grand- 


William  Green  Hill  [197 

mother,  and  grandfather,  and  Uncle  Ed,  and 
Brother  Johnson,  and  she  makes  them  prom- 
ise never  to  breathe  it  to  a  living  soul.  But 
the  Super'ntendent's  wife  is  different;  she 
tells  ever'thing  she  hears,  and  now  every- 
body knows  what  that  teacher  said  about 
us." 

"Everybody  says  she  is  the  crankiest 
teacher  they  is,"  cried  Jimmy,  "she  won't 
let  you  bring  nothing  to  school  'cepting 
your  books ;  you  can't  even  take  your  sling- 
shot, nor  your  air-gun,  nor " 

"Nor  your  dolls,"  chimed  in  Frances,  "and 
she  won't  let  you  bat  your  eye,  nor  say  a 
word,  nor  cross  your  legs,  nor  blow  your 
nose." 

"What  do  she  think  we  's  goin'  to  her  ol' 
school  fer  if  we  can't  have  fun?"  asked 
Billy.  "Tabernicle  sho'  had  fun  when  he 
went  to  school.  He  put  a  pin  in  the  teacher's 
chair  an'  she  set  down  on  it  plumb  up  to 
the  head,  an'  he  tie  the  strings  together 
what  two  nigger  gals  had  they  hair  wropped 
with,  an'  he  squoze  up  a  little  boy's  legs  in 
front  of  him  with  a  rooster  foot  tell  he 
squalled  out  loud,  an*  he  th'owed  spitballs, 
an*  he  make  him  some  watermelon  teeth, 
an'  he  paint  a  chicken  light  red  an'  tuck  it 


198]  Miss  Mineroa.  and 

to  the  teacher  fer  a  dodo,  an*  he  put  cotton 
in  his  pants  'fore  he  got  licked,  an*  he 
drawed  the  teacher  on  a  slate.  That  's  what 
you  go  to  school  fer  is  to  have  fun,  an'  I 
sho'  is  goin'  to  have  fun  when  I  goes,  an' 
I  ain't  goin'  to  take  no  bulldozin'  offer  her, 
neither." 

"I  bet  we  can  squelch  her,"  cried  Frances, 
vindictively. 

"Yes,  we  '11  show  her  a  thing  or  two," — 
for  once  Jimmy  agreed  with  her,  "she  'bout 
the  butt-in-est  old  woman  they  is,  and  she  's 
going  to  find  out  we  'bout  the  squelchingest 
kids  ever  she  tackle." 

"Alfred  Gage  went  to  school  to  her  last 
year,"  said  Frances,  "and  he  can  read  and 
write." 

"Yes,"  joined  in  Jimmy,  "and  he  'bout  the 
proudest  boy  they  is;  all  time  got  to  write 
his  name  all  over  everything." 

"You  'member  'bout  last  Communion 
Sunday,"  went  on  the  little  girl,  "when  they 
hand  roun'  the  little  envellups  and  telled  all 
the  folks  what  was  willing  to  give  five 
dollars  more  on  the  pastor's  sal'y  just  to 
write  his  name ;  so  Alfred  he  so  frisky  'cause 
he  know  how  to  write ;  so  he  tooken  one  of 
the  little  envellups  and  wroten  'Alfred  Gage' 


William  Green  Hill  [199 

on  it;  so  when  his  papa  find  out  'bout  it  he 
say  that  kid  got  to  work  and  pay  that  five 
dollars  hi'self,  'cause  he  done  sign  his  name 
to  it." 

"And  if  he  ain't  'bout  the  sickest  kid  they 
is,"  declared  Jimmy;  "I'll  betcher  he  won't 
get  fresh  no  more  soon.  He  telled  me  the 
other  day  he  ain't  had  a  drink  of  soda  water 
this  summer,  'cause  every  nickel  he  gets 
got  to  go  to  Mr.  Pastor's  sal'ry;  he  says  he 
plumb  tired  supporting  Brother  Johnson 
and  all  his  family;  and,  he  say,  every  time 
he  go  up  town  he  sees  Johnny  Johnson 
a-setting  on  a  stool  in  Baltzer's  drug  store 
just  a-swigging  milk-shakes;  he  says  he 
going  to  knock  him  off  some  day  'cause  it's 
his  nickels  that  kid  's  a-spending." 

There  was  a  short  silence,  broken  by 
Billy,  who  remarked,  apropos  of  nothing: 

"I  sho*  is  glad  I  don't  hafter  be  a  'oman 
when  I  puts  on  long  pants,  mens  is  heap  mo' 
account." 

"I  wouldn't  be  a  woman  for  nothing  at 
all,"  Jimmy  fully  agreed  with  him;  "they 
have  the  pokiest  time  they  is." 

"I  'm  glad  I  am  going  to  be  a  young 
lady  when  I  grow  up,"  Lina  declared,  "I 
would   n't   be    a   gentleman   for    anything. 


200]  Miss  Minerva  and 

I  'm  going  to  wear  pretty  clothes  and  be 
beautiful  and  be  a  belle  like  mother  was, 
and  have  lots  of  lovers  kneel  at  my  feet  on 
one  knee  and  play  the  guitar  with  the 
other " 

"How  they  goin'  to  play  the  guitar  with 
they  other  knee?"  asked  the  practical  Billy. 

"And  sing  'Call  Me  Thine  Own/"  she 
continued,  ignoring  his  interruption.  "Fa- 
ther got  on  his  knees  to  mother  thirty-seven- 
and-a-half  times  before  she  'd  say,  *I  will/-" 

"Look  like  he  'd  'a'  wore  his  breeches  out," 
said  Billy. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  a  lady,*  declared 
Frances;  "they  can't  ever  ride  straddle  nor 
climb  a  tree,  and  they  got  to  squinch  up 
their  waists  and  toes.  I  wish  I  could  kiss 
my  elbow  right  now  and  turn  to  a  boy." 


William  Green  Hill  [20t 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

UNCONDITIONAL  SURRENDER 

HEY  'S  going  to  be  a 
big  nigger  'scursion  to  Mem- 
phis at  'leven  o'clock,"  said 
Jimmy  as  he  met  the  other 
little  boy  at  the  dividing 
fence;  "Sam  Lamb  's  going 
and  'most  all  the  niggers  they  is.  Sarah 
Jane  lowed  she  's  going,  but  she  ain't  got 
nobody  to  'tend  to  Bennie  Dick.  Would  n't 
you  like  to  go,  Billy?" 

"You  can't  go  'thout  you  's  a  nigger," 
was  the  reply;  "Sam  Lamb  say  they  ain't 
no  white  folks  'lowed  on  this  train  'cepin' 
the  engineer  an'  conductor." 

"Sam  Lamb  'd  take  care  of  us  if  we  could 
go,"  continued  Jimmy.  "Let  's  slip  off  and 
go  down  to  the  depot  and  see  the  niggers  get 
on.    There  11  be  'bout  a  million." 

Billy's  eyes  sparkled  with  appreciation. 
"I  sho'  wish  I  could,"  he  said;"  but  Aunt 
Minerva  *d  make  me  stay  in  bed  a  whole 
week  if  I  went  near  the  railroad." 


202]  Miss  Minerva  and 

"My  mama  'd  gimme  'bout  a  million  licks, 
too,  if  I  projeckted  with  a  nigger  'scursion: 
she  'bout  the  spankingest  woman  they  is. 
My  papa  put  some  burnt  cork  on  his  face  in 
the  Knights  er  Pythi's  minstrels  and  I  know 
where  we  can  get  some  to  make  us  black; 
you  go  get  Miss  Minerva's  ink  bottle  too, 
that  '11  help  some,  and  get  some  matches, 
and  I  '11  go  get  the  cork  and  we  can  go  to 
Sarah  Jane's  house  and  make  usselfs  black." 

"I  ain't  never  promise  not  to  black  up  and 
go  down  to  the  depot,"  said  Billy  waver- 
ingly.  "I  promise  not  to  never  be  no  mo' 
Injun  — I " 

"Well,  run  then,"  Jimmy  interrupted  im- 
patiently. "We  '11  just  slip  down  to  the 
railroad  and  take  a  look  at  the  niggers. 
You  don't  hafto  get  on  the  train  just  'cause 
you  down  to  the  depot." 

So  Miss  Minerva's  nephew,  after  tiptoe- 
ing into  the  house  for  her  ink  bottle  and 
filling  his  pockets  with  contraband  matches, 
met  his  chum  at  the  cabin.  There,  under 
the  critical  survey  of  Bennie  Dick  from  his 
customary  place  on  the  floor,  they  darkened 
their  faces,  heads,  hands,  feet,  and  legs; 
then,  pulling  their  caps  over  their  eyes, 
these  energetic  little  boys  stole  out  of  the 


William  Green  Hill 


[203 


back  gate  and  fairly  flew  down  an  alley  to 
the  station.  No  one  noticed  them  in  that 
hot,  perspiring,  black  crowd.  A  lively  band 
was  playing  and  the  mob  of  good-humored, 
happy  negroes,  dressed  in  their  Sunday  best, 
laughing  and  joking,  pushing  and  elbowing, 


made    their    way    to    the    excursion    train 
standing  on  the  track. 

The  two  excited  children  got  directly  be- 
hind a  broad,  pompous  negro  and  slipped 
on  the  car  just  after  him.  Fortunately  they 
found  a  seat  in  the  rear  of  the  coach  and 
there  they  sat  unobserved,  still  and  quiet, 
except  for  an   occasional  delighted  giggle, 


204]  Miss  Minerva  and 

till  the  bell  clanged  and  the  train  started  off. 

"We  '11  see  Sam  Lamb  toreckly,"  whis- 
pered Jimmy,  "and  he  '11  take  care  of  us." 

The  train  was  made  up  of  seven  coaches, 
which  had  been  taking  on  negroes  at  every 
station  up  the  road  as  far  as  Paducah,  and 
it  happened  that  the  two  little  boys  did  not 
know  a  soul  in  their  car. 

But  when  they  were  nearing  Woodstock, 
a  little  station  not  far  from  Memphis,  Sam 
Lamb,  making  a  tour  of  the  cars,  came  into 
their  coach  and  was  promptly  hailed  by  the 
children.  When  he  recognized  them,  he 
burst  into  such  a  roar  of  laughter  that  it 
caused  all  the  other  passengers  to  turn 
around  and  look  in  their  direction. 

"What  y*  all  gwine  to  do  nex'  I  jes'  won- 
der," he  exclaimed.  "Yo'  ekals  ain't  made 
dis  side  o'  'ternity.  Lordee,  Lordee,"  he 
gazed  at  them  admiringly,  "you  sho*  is 
genoowine  corn-fed,  sterlin'  silver,  all-wool- 
an'-a-yard-wide,  pure-leaf,  Green-River  Lol- 
lapaloosas.  Does  yo'  folks  know  'bout  yer? 
Lordee!  What  I  axin'  sech  a  fool  question 
fer?  'Course  dey  don't.  Come  on,  I  gwine 
to  take  y'  all  off  'm  dese  cars  right  here  at 
dis  Woodstock,  an'  we  kin  ketch  de  'com- 
modation  back  home." 


William  Green  Hill  [205 

"But  Sam,"  protested  Billy,  "We  don't 
want  to  go  back  home.  We  wants  to  go  to 
Memphis." 

"Hit  don't  matter  what  y*  all  wants,"  was 
the  negro's  reply,  "y'  all  gotta  git  right  off. 
Dis-here  'scursion  train  don't  leave  Mem- 
phis twell  twelve  o'clock  to-night  an'  yuh 
see  how  slow  she  am  runnin',  and  ev'y  no 
'count  nigger  on  her  '11  be  full  o'  red  eye. 
An'  yo'  folks  is  plumb  'stracted  'bout  yer 
dis  minute,  I  'low.  Come  on.  She  am 
gittin'  ready  to  stop." 

He  grabbed  the  blackened  hand  of  each, 
pushing  Jimmy  and  pulling  Billy,  and  towed 
the  reluctant  little  boys  through  the  coach. 

"Yuh  sho'  is  sp'iled  my  fun,"  he  growled 
as  he  hustled  them  across  the  platform  to  the 
waiting-room.  "Dis-here  's  de  fus'  'scursion 
I  been  on  widout  Sukey  a-taggin'  long  in 
five  year  an'  I  aimed  fo'  to  roll  'em  high; 
an'  now,  'case  o'  ketchin'  up  wid  y'  all,  I 
gotta  go  right  back  home.  Now  y'  all  set 
jes'  as  straight  as  yer  kin  set  on  dis  here 
bench,"  he  admonished,  "whilst  I  send  a 
telegraph  to  Marse  Jeems  Garner.  An' 
don'  yuh  try  to  'lope  out  on  de  flatform 
neider.  Set  whar  I  kin  keep  my  eye  skinned 
on  yuh,  yuh  little  slipp'ry-ellum  eels.     Den 


206]  Miss  Minerva  and 

I  gwine  to  come  back  an'  wash  yer,  so  y'  all 
look  like  'spectable  white  folks." 

Miss  Minerva  came  out  of  her  front  door 
looking  for  Billy  at  the  same  time  that 
Mrs.  Garner  appeared  on  her  porch  in 
search  of  Jimmy. 

"William!  You  William !"  called  one 
woman. 

"Jimmee-ee !  O  Jimmee-ee-ee !"  called  the 
other. 

"Have  you  seen  my  nephew?"  asked  the 
one. 

"No.  Have  you  seen  anything  of 
Jimmy?"  was  the  reply  of  the  other. 

"They  were  talking  together  at  the  fence 
about  an  hour  ago,"  said  Billy's  aunt.  "Pos- 
sibly they  are  down  at  the  livery  stable  with 
Sam  Lamb ;  I  '11  'phone  and  find  out." 

"And  I  '11  ring  up  Mrs.  Black  and  Mrs. 
Hamilton.  They  may  have  gone  to  see 
Lina  or  Frances." 

In  a  short  time  both  women  appeared  on 
their  porches  again : 

"They  have  not  been  to  the  stable  this 
morning,"  said  Miss  Minerva  unea*"y>  "and 
Sam  went  to  Memphis  on  the  excursion 
train." 


William  Green  Hill  [207 

"And  they  are  not  with  Lina  or 
Frances," — Mrs.  Garner's  face  wore  an 
anxious  look,  "I  declare  I  never  saw  two 
such  children.  Still,  I  don't  think  we  need 
worry  as  it  is  nearly  dinner  time,  and  they 
never  miss  their  meals,  you  know." 

But  the  noon  hour  came  and  with  it  no 
hungry  little  boys.  Then,  indeed,  did  the 
relatives  of  the  children  grow  uneasy.  The 
two  telephones  were  kept  busy,  and  Mr. 
Garner,  with  several  other  men  on  horse- 
back, scoured  the  village.  Not  a  soul  had 
seen  either  child. 

At  three  o'clock  Miss  Minerva,  worn  with 
anxiety  and  on  the  verge  of  a  collapse, 
dropped  into  a  chair  on  her  veranda,  her 
faithful  Major  by  her  side.  He  had  come 
to  offer  help  and  sympathy  as  soon  as  he 
heard  of  her  distress,  and,  finding  her  in 
such  a  softened,  dependent,  and  receptive 
mood,  the  Major  had  remained  to  try  to 
cheer  her  up. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garner  were  also  on  the 
-porch,  discussing  what  further  steps  they 
could  take. 

"It  is  r$  the  fault  of  that  William  of 
yours,"  snapped  one  little  boy's  mother  to 


208]  cMiss  cMmerua  and 

the  other  little  boy's  aunt:  "Jimmy  is  the 
best  child  in  the  world  when  he  is  by 
himself,  but  he  is  easily  led  into  mischief." 

Miss  Minerva's  face  blazed  with  indig- 
nation. 

"William's  fault  indeed!"  she  answered 
back.  "There  never  was  a  sweeter  child 
than  William;"  for  the  lonely  woman  knew 
the  truth  at  last.  At  the  thought  that  her 
little  nephew  might  be  hurt,  a  long  forgotten 
tenderness  stirred  her  bosom  and  she  real- 
ized for  the  first  time  how  the  child  had 
grown  into  her  life. 

The  telegram  came. 

"They  are  all  right,"  shouted  Mr.  Garner 
joyously,  as  he  quickly  opened  and  read  the 
yellow  missive,  "they  went  on  the  excursion 
and  Sam  Lamb  is  bringing  them  home  on 
the  accommodation." 

As  the  Major,  short,  plump,  rubicund, 
jolly,  and  Miss  Minerva,  tall,  sallow,  angu- 
lar, solemn,  were  walking  to  the  station  to 
meet  the  train  that  was  bringing  home  the 
runaways,  the  elderly  lover  knew  himself 
to  be  at  last  master  of  the  situation. 

"The  trouble  with  Billy "  he  began, 


William  Green  Hill  [209 

adjusting  his  steps  to  Miss  Minerva's 
mincing  walk. 

"William,"  she  corrected,  faintly. 

"The  trouble  with  Billy"  repeated  her 
suitor  firmly,  "is  this:  you  have  tried  to 
make  a  girl  out  of  a  healthy,  high-spirited 
boy;  you  have  n't  given  him  the  toys  and 
playthings  a  boy  should  have ;  you  have  not 
even  given  the  child  common  love  and 
affection."  He  was  letting  himself  go,  for 
he  knew  that  she  needed  the  lecture,  and, 
wonderful  to  tell,  she  was  listening  meekly. 
"You  have  steeled  your  heart,"  he  went  on, 
"against  Billy  and  against  me.  You  have 
about  as  much  idea  how  to  manage  a  boy  as 

a  —  as  a "  he  hesitated  for  a  suitable 

comparison:  he  wanted  to  say  "goat,"  but 
gallantry  forbade;  "as  any  other  old  maid," 
he  blurted  out,  realizing  as  he  did  so  that  a 
woman  had  rather  be  called  a  goat  than  an 
old  maid  any  time. 

The  color  mounted  to  Miss  Minerva's 
face. 

"I  don't  have  to  be  an  old  maid,"  she 
snapped  spunkily. 

"No ;  and  you  are  not  going  to  be  one  any 
longer,"  he  answered  with  decision.  "I  tell 
you  what,  Miss  Minerva,  we  are  going  to 


210\  Miss  Minetba  and 

make  a  fine,  manly  boy  out  of  that  nephew 
of  yours." 

"We?"  she  echoed  faintly. 

"Yes,  we!  I  said  we,  didn't  I?"  replied 
the  Major  ostentatiously.  "The  child  shall 
have  a  pony  to  ride  and  every  thing 
else  that  a  boy  ought  to  have.  He  is  full  of 
natural  animal  spirits  and  has  to  find  some 
outlet  for  them;  that  is  the  reason  he  is 
always  in  mischief.  Now,  I  think  I  under- 
stand children."  He  drew  himself  up 
proudly.  "We  shall  be  married  to-morrow," 
he  announced,  "that  I  may  assume  at  once 
my  part  of  the  responsibility  of  Billy's 
rearing." 

Miss  Minerva  looked  at  him  in  fluttering 
consternation. 

"Oh,  no,  not  to-morrow,"  she  protested; 
"possibly  next  year  some  time." 

"To-morrow,"  reiterated  the  Major,  his 
white  moustache  bristling  with  determina- 
tion. Having  at  last  asserted  himself,  he 
was  enjoying  the  situation  immensely  and 
was  not  going  to  give  way  one  inch. 

"We  will  be  married  to-morrow  and " 

"Next  month,"  she  suggested  timidly. 

"To-morrow,  I  tell  you!" 

"Next  week,"  she  answered. 


William  Green  Hill 


121 1 


AfAC.  1\viAt.L 


"To-morrow !  To-morrow !  To-morrow !" 
cried  the  Major,  happy  as  a  schoolboy. 

"Next  Sunday  night  after  church,"  pleaded 
Miss  Minerva. 

"No,  not  next  Sunday  or  Monday  or  Tues- 
day. We  will  be  married  to-morrow," 
declared  the  dictatorial  Confederate  veteran. 

Billy's  aunt  succumbed. 

"Oh,  Joseph,"  she  said  with  almost  a 
simper,  "you  are  so  masterful." 


212]  Miss  SMineroa 

"How  would  you  like  me  for  an  uncle?" 
Miss  Minerva's  affianced  asked  Billy  a  few 
minutes  later. 

"Fine  an'  dandy,"  was  the  answer,  as  the 
child  wriggled  himself  out  of  his  aunt's 
embrace.  The  enthusiastic  reception  ac- 
corded him,  when  he  got  off  the  train,  was 
almost  too  much  for  the  little  boy.  He 
gazed  at  the  pair  in  embarrassment.  He 
was  for  the  moment  disconcerted  and  over- 
come ;  in  place  of  the  expected  scoldings  and 
punishment,  he  was  received  with  caresses 
and  flattering  consideration.  He  could  not 
understand  it  at  all. 

The  Major  put  a  hand  on  the  little  boy's 
shoulder  and  smiled  a  kindly  smile  into  his 
big,  grey,  astonished  eyes  as  the  happy  lover 
delightedly  whispered,  "Your  aunt  Minerva 
is  going  to  marry  me  to-morrow,  Billy." 

"Pants  an'  all?"  asked  William  Green 
Hill. 

THE  END 


H 


